(1*0 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 


THE  STORY  OF  A  PROSPECTOR 


BY 

HENRY  G.  CATLIN 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  RICHMOND  &  CO. 

1897 


G3 
XV 


COPYRIGHT,  1897,  BY 
GEORGE  H.  RICHMOND  &  CO. 


of  I.  J.  Li' 
or  Place,  N 


ew  York 


NOTE 

OF  this  now  fast  closing  century  a  picturesque  and 
distinctively  American  character  has  been  the  pros 
pector. 

The  discovery  of  gold  in  California  awoke  in  their 
descendants  something  of  that  old  ardor  which  two 
hundred  and  more  years  ago  animated  the  early 
comers  to  North  America. 

From  Maine  to  Florida  sturdy,  adventurous  spirits 
felt  the  thrill  of  an  inherited  tendency  which,  for  so 
long  dormant,  reasserted  itself,  and  flocked  to  the  new 
Golconda.  The  indolent,  the  timid,  the  conservative 
did  not  go;  but  when  considerations  of  convenience, 
propriety,  and  duty  allowed,  the  ambitious,  assertive 
young  men  crossed  the  plains  or  took  shipping  for 
California. 

On  that  distant  Pacific  coast  assembled  a  community 
of  young  men,  an  aggregation  of  energy,  physical 
strength,  and  enthusiasm  never  before  equalled. 

The  wild  spirits  of  youth,  the  absence  of  all  restraint, 
the  force  of  early  education,  the  democratic  temper 
mixed  with  the  exhilaration  of  adventure  and  the  in 
toxication  of  the  gold  thirst.  Out  of  this  medley  of 
influences  came  a  class  marked  and  distinctive  within 
the  limits  of  an  individualism  pertaining  to  its  com 
ponent  parts. 


iv  NOTE 

California  was  the  rude  school;  the  wider  experi 
ences  of  the  great  wilds  completed  the  education. 

The  man  who  remained  in  California  became  pro 
vincial;  it  is  not  of  him  I  speak. 

The  man  who  went  out  into  the  wilderness,  his 
horse  and  pack  mule,  arms,  provisions,  and  tools  all 
he  could  call  his  own;  led  by  an  impulse  stronger 
than  love  of  ease,  comfort,  or  life ;  his  one  all-absorb 
ing  idea  the  finding  of  the  precious  metals,  which 
when  found  but  urged  him  to  further  quest ;  that  man 
whom  neither  cold  nor  heat,  thirst  nor  blood  could 
stop;  broadened  by  diversified  experiences,  tinted 
with  the  coloring  of  varied  climates,  forged  into  a 
type  by  blows  from  opposing  forces;  the  mountain 
wanderer,  the  tireless  seeker, — of  him  I  tell.  Much  as 
I  regret  that  no  better  artist  limns  him,  for  he  is 
worthy  a  master's  pencil,  I  make  no  apology  for  my 
rude  sketching.  My  acquaintance  has  been  long  and 
intimate  with  him,  and  while,  perhaps,  something  of 
kindred  feeling  assures  me  that  I  know  him  well,  it  is 
only  because  he  is  a  passing,  vanishing  figure  in  our 
American  life  that  I  am  prompted  to  do  my  little  to 
preserve  his  memory. 

With  such  change  of  time,  place,  and  sequence  of 
incident  as  has  seemed  fitting  to  me,  the  story  is  a  true 
one. 

There  may  be  those  who,  putting  this  and  that 
together,  may  now  know  more  of  a  simple  secret  long 
kept  by  a  simple  man;  if  so,  old  comradeship  will,  I 
know,  keep  their  lips  closed. 


YELLOW    PINE    BASIN 


CHAPTER  I 

"  THAT  ain't  no  bed-rock,  Bud." 

"  It  is  all  there  seems  to  be." 

"Well,  pan  her  out  and  let's  see  how  she  pros 
pects;  I  don't  think  ye'll  raise  a  color." 

Moving  down  the  creek,  Bud  selects  a  still  spot  in 
the  water,  in  the  lee  of  a  big  boulder,  and  with  a  hand 
on  each  side  of  the  iron  gold -pan,  holds  it  under  the 
water  and  gives  it  that  oscillating  motion,  the  first 
movement  in  the  process  for  determining  the  rich 
ness  of  the  gravel  in  bright  grains  of  gold,  which 
among  gold  miners  is  termed  panning.  He  stops,  and 
with  the  fingers  of  one  hand  rakes  off  the  coarser  par 
ticles  of  the  gravel  with  which  the  pan  is  filled,  and 
begins  again. 

Bending  over  him,  one  foot  in  the  water  of  the 
little  stream,  the  other  on  its  bank,  and  resting  an 
elbow  on  his  elevated  knee,  old  Zeb  awaits  the  result. 

"  You  hain't  give  her  no  chance,  Bud;  this  Salmon 
River  gold  is  mostly  on  the  bed-rock,  and  ye  didn't 
have  no  bed-rock. ' ' 

"  I  can  see  black  sand  and  iron  rocks  and  rubies,  any 
way;  I  think  there  will  be  gold.  I  don't  know  much 
about  it,  but  it  looks  to  me  favorable  for  a  prospect." 


2  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

The  gyratory  oscillations  stopped,  and  a  new  shak 
ing  movement  brought  to  the  surface  the  lighter 
sands,  and,  holding  it  on  a  slant,  Bud  dipped  the  pan 
in  the  water,  lifting  it  again  so  that  each  receding  of 
the  water,  like  the  ocean  wave  on  some  quiet  shore, 
carried  off  its  burden  of  sand,  each  wave  reducing  the 
volume  in  the  pan;  and  after  every  dip  came  a  shake, 
bringing  to  the  surface  other  grains  of  sand,  and  other 
receding  waves  carried  them  away  until  only  the  heav 
ier  particles  remained.  Slowly  went  the  final  process 
of  panning  down.  Under  the  covering  of  black  sand 
lay  the  hidden  probabilities,  for  Bud  was  too  good  a 
panner  to  show  color  yet. 

"  I  tell  ye,  ye  hain't  give  her  no  show,  Bud.  If  she 
prospects  at  all,  we'll  go  to  bed-rock  if  we  have  to 
bale  the  water  out  the  hole;  but  she  won't,  'taint 
reason." 

The  end  was  coming ;  only  a  trifle  of  black  sand  re 
mained  in  the  angle  made  by  the  bottom  and  side  of 
the  pan.  With  a  dexterous  movement  the  black  cov 
ering  rolled  away,  and  several  bright  grains  of  gold  lay 
at  the  end  of  the  sand,  making  a  yellow  tip  to  its  som 
bre  shade. 

"  What  did  I  say  ?    I  said  it  would  prospect." 

"That's  what  ye  did,  Bud.  I  didn't  think  she 
would.  Coarse  gold  it  is  too,  and  rattles  in  the  pan," 
as  he  took  up  a  grain  and  let  it  fall  on  the  iron  bottom. 

"  We'll  go  to  bed-rock  and  we'll  get  her  richer  nor 
twenty-dollar  pieces.  I  see  the  same  lay  in  Californy 
in  '50;  no,  'twas  in  '51,  on  Dutchman  Creek.  Say, 
Bud,  that  gold's  better  nor  eighteen  dollars  an  ounce. 
That  ain't  no  channel  wash,  nor  no  channel  gold;  the 
channel  is  yon  by  them  porphry  boulders.  It  ain't  no 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  3 

man's  place  to  say  signs  is  nothing.  Ye  mind  that  she- 
bear  we  saw  on  Sulphur  Crik,  with  the  two  cubs,  one 
black  and  one  brown  ?  I  told  ye  then  we'd  have  luck ; 
no  man  never  saw  them  signs  that  he  didn't  have 
luck.  Why,  there  was  my  pardner  Yank,  God  bless 
his  old  soul !  'Twas  in  '49,  late,  me  and  Yank  had  jined 
and  was  working  a  claim ;  grub  give  out.  Yank  took 
the  sack  and  went  to  town ;  rode  a  mustang  hellion  I 
had,  and  packed  a  pinto  we  borry'd  from  a  Portu- 
gee  who  owned  the  'jining  claim — sich  English  as 
that  cuss  talked !  Well,  as  I  tell  ye,  Yank  he  goes  for 
the  grub,  and  as  he  crossed  the  divide,  he  saw  a  she- 
bear  and  two  cubs,  one  on  'em  black  and  one  brown. 
Yank  was  free  and  easy  like,  had  a  few  drinks  when 
he  come  to  town,  and  run  up  agin  a  game  and  lost  the 
sack ;  twenty-four  ounces,  I  remember.  Next  morn 
ing  he  felt  dang'd  blue.  There  was  I  and  there  was  he 
with  no  grub;  but  he  says,  '  I'll  chance  it,'  and  in  he 
goes  to  Hawkins  &  Co.,  the  store-keepers,  and  says 
he,  ' 1  wants  some  grub  for  me  and  my  pardner,  and 
I  hain't  no  dust;  my  name  is  Yank;  I  sailed  from 
Saco,  Maine,  a- whaling,  and  when  we  put  in  at  the 
Bay  I  thought  I'd  try  the  mines.'  'The  devil  ye 
did, '  says  Hawkins.  '  Ye  can  have  what  ye  want ;  no 
Maine  man  comes  to  me  for  grub  but  he  gets  it.' 
Yank  was  that  honest  he  says,  '  But  my  pardner  Zeb, 
he's  from  Injiany.'  'Well,'  says  Hawkins,  'he's  in 
good  company  if  he  does  hail  from  that  ornery  State. ' 
I  never  knew  Yank  to  lie;  Yank  couldn't  lie;  but  he 
had  been  up  all  night,  must  have  punished  a  heap  of 
whiskey,  for  I  knew  his  gait;  ennyway  he  said  that 
old  Hawkins  said  that.  Yank  never  had  no  conceit  of 
Injiany  nor  any  other  State  that  wan't  on  the  sea; 


4  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

said  they  was  no  'count.  Says  he  to  me:  'Why 
there's  Maine  and  here's  Californy,  and  both  on  'em 
on  the  sea; '  and  what  could  I  say  ?  I  couldn't  argy 
with  Yank,  nobody  could;  he  was  that  sort. 

"  So  soon  as  old  Hawkins  said  what  he  did,  that 
she-bear  and  them  cubs  jumped  on  him  and  he  knew 
'twas  luck.  When  he  come  into  the  gulch  with  the 
grub,  Yank  told  me  the  whole  thing.  He  was  telling 
the  Portugee  when  he  come  in  our  cabin  that  night, 
and  the  Portugee  says :  '  No  good,  losa  dora,  no  good. ' 
He  meant,  ye  know,  he  had  lost  the  dust.  Yank 
didn't  say  nothing  then,  but  he  says  to  me  after 
ward  :  '  How  ignorant  them  Portugees  are !  It's  a  nat- 
eral  thing  for  a  man  to  lose  at  a  game,  but  any  dang'd 
fool  knows  it  was  luck  to  get  that  grub. '  I  see  that 
p'int  myself,  for  I  had  tried  them  games." 

"  There  must  be  better  ground  than  that  higher  up 
the  creek,  Zeb,"  broke  in  Bud. 

"Of  course  there  is;  that  ground  above  the  swag 
is  my  fancy,  over  yon  beyond  the  p'int.  Then  I  was 
going  out  to  Hangtown  once,  and  I  see  a  she-bear  and 
two  cubs,  one  black  and  one  brown ;  traded  off  an  old 
ring-boned  mare  I  had  for  the  finest  hoss  ye  ever  see ; 
not  a  blemish  on  him;  run  like  a  deer.  I  took  real 
comfort  with  that  hoss  'till  a  man  come  along  in  about 
three  weeks  and  proved  it  was  his  hoss,  stolen  from 
him ;  I  give  the  man  five  ounces  rather  than  part  with 
him." 

"The  fall  looks  pretty  good  here,  and  there  is 
plenty  of  water,  and  if  it's  only  good  on  bed-rock, 
Zeb." 

"Good,  man;  I  tell  ye  'twill  be  good;  them  signs 
never  fail.  I  mind  another  time  Yank  sees  a  she-bear 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  5 

and  two  cubs,  one  on  'em  black  and  one  on  'em  brown, 
as  he  was  going  to  the  Bay.  Sold  his  interest  out  to 
me  and  took  three  hundred  ounces  with  him  to  have 
a  go  at  the  Bay.  Ye  wouldn't  believe  it,  but  Yank 
hadn't  been  there  two  weeks  'fore  he  married  a  wo 
man  a  butcher  was  courting,  finest  woman  ye  ever  see, 
he  told  me.  Butcher  he  was  mad,  and  drew  his  gun 
on  Yank  unawares,  and  pulled  the  trigger,  but  the  cap 
didn't  snap.  In  them  days,  Bud,  caps  was  all  the  go; 
no  copper  cartridges  then.  This  gave  Yank  time  to 
draw,  and  he  plumped  him  dead  as  a  door-nail.  Yank 
said  when  he  got  the  woman  and  when  he  got  the 
man  he  seed  that  bear  and  them  cubs.  He  told  me 
many  a  time  that  winter,  for  he  come  up  and  stopped 
with  me.  He  give  the  woman  his  sack,  and  when  she 
got  it  all,  she  give  him  the  go-by  and  left  him  without 
a  color.  '  Yer  a  woman, '  says  Yank,  '  and  ye  have  me ; 
if  'twere  a  man  'twould  be  different; '  and  he  wishes 
her  luck  and  steps  out.  Yank  was  a  gentleman,  sand 
from  his  toes  up ;  but  no  softer  man  to  a  woman  ever 
lived,  and  that's  why  I  say  Yank  was  a  gentleman  in 
them  times.  He  and  I  talked  it  all  over.  '  She  was 
a  lady,'  said  Yank,  'and  I  wasn't  good  enough  for 
her;  she's  welcome  to  it  all;  how  could  I  think  she 
cared  for  a  dang'd  fool  like  me  ?  '  I  see  he  was  sour 
and  I  said  nothing,  but  I  thought  she'd  never  find  a 
better  man,  nor  could  she ;  for  Yank  was  a  gentleman, 
never  lied,  never  stole.  Yank  was  a  Christian ;  that 
man  knew  the  Bible  from  end  to  end.  You  couldn't 
stump  him  on  no  text;  he  fought  for  the  weak,  played 
a  fair  game,  and  was  always  behind  his  gun.  Yes,  a 
good  man  was  Yank.  He's  in  heaven  now,  and  there 
ain't  no  better  there;  Yank  was  a  man." 


6  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

"  I  don't  care  for  black  bears  or  cubs,  or  brown  ones 
either;  we  will  go  down  to  bed-rock,  Zeb,  and  if  it's 
good  there  we  will  have  a  big  mine,  won't  we?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  the  way  I  was,  Bud;  just  like  ye.  Ye 
go  the  same  gait,  on  the  same  trail.  I  didn't  know 
nothing,  didn't  believe  nothing,  when  I  was  twenty- 
five;  sence  then  I've  seed  a  heap  in  Calif orny,  in 
Nevady,  in  the  war,  on  the  Eraser,  in  Montany,  in 
Arizony,  and  down  among  the  Greasers,  and  I  have 
sensed.  'Pears  like  a  man  don't  know  nothing  'till  he's 
sixty,  Bud;  I  tell  ye,"  and  the  old  man's  arm  and 
hand  and  finger  emphasized  the  moral,  "  signs  is  signs, 
and  it  ain't  no  man's  place  to  say  they  ain't." 

"  Well,  well,  Zeb,  let's  go  to  camp,  and  to-morrow 
we'll  tackle  the  ground." 

The  sun  was  setting  in  all  the  clear  glory  of  an 
atmosphere  which  obtains  nowhere  else,  save  in  the 
great  inter-mountain  country  between  the  Rockies  and 
the  Sierras. 

As  they  walked  up  the  creek  the  graceful  pine  squir 
rels  were  yet  hard  at  work  in  preparation  for  the  long 
winter  soon  to  come ;  running  up  the  black  pines,  out 
to  the  end  of  the  branches,  testing  the  little  cones,  and 
as  one  seemed  good  to  them,  biting  it  off  and  watching 
its  fall  to  earth ;  stopping  only  in  their  active  labors 
when  some  robber  of  their  own  kind  sought  to  reap 
the  fruits  of  their  honest  toil,  and  carry  to  his  own 
store-house  the  little  pine  burs.  Then  the  squirrel  in 
the  tree  would  rush  down,  and  with  honest  indignation 
and  angry  chattering  drive  away  his  predatory  fel 
low.  A  lone  butterfly  before  them  flitted  towards  the 
willows  where  its  bed  and  board  were;  belated  hor 
nets  and  a  stray  reveller  of  a  black  horse-fly,  who 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  7 

should  have  been  in  bed  an  hour  before,  for  they  are 
early-to-bed  folk,  were  on  their  homeward  way.  A 
startled  grouse  flew  from  their  feet,  and  a  bevy  of  fool 
hens  gave  them  the  road. 

"  Yes,  we'll  find  it  good  on  bed-rock,  I'll  bet;  same 
lay  of  ground  as  Shirt-Tail  Gulch,  if  she's  only  half 
as  good.  In  '50  Yank  and  me  took  out  three  ounces 
to  the  man,  but  'twas  Calif orny." 

"It's  always  California  with  you,  Zeb;  Idaho's 
good  enough  for  me,  and  Yellow  Pine  Basin's  as 
likely  to  be  rich  as  Shirt-Tail  Gulch." 

"Yes,  for  Idaho;  but  there  warn't  but  one  Cali- 
forny,  Bud." 

On  the  bench  above  the  gently  rising  bank,  with 
tall  pines  in  the  background,  as  they  were  thrown 
from  the  animals  when  unsaddled,  lay  in  disorder  two 
riding-saddles,  two  pack-saddles,  rolls  of  blankets, 
shovels  and  picks,  flour  and  bacon,  two  Winchesters 
and  cartridge  belts,  and  sacks  of  the  goods  that  make 
up  a  prospecting  outfit. 

Throwing  down  the  pan  and  the  shovel  as  old  Zeb 
dropped  the  pick  used  in  their  afternoon's  work,  the 
young  man  said:  "  You  get  supper,  Zeb,  and  I'll  look 
up  the  horses.  I  don't  hear  the  bell,"  and  started  up 
the  creek  on  his  search. 

His  old  companion  put  a  log  on  the  ground,  and 
with  the  shovel  scraped  out  a  hole  under  it,  gathered 
some  pine  branches  with  their  dried  needles  from  the 
trunks  of  the  surrounding  trees,  threw  on  them  some 
larger  dry  sticks,  and  soon  had  the  fire  started,  and 
on  it  an  old  tin  coffee  can  filled  with  water  from  the 
creek.  The  soap  and  a  much-used  and  dingy  towel 
were  fished  out  of  the  "  alfallcases  "  (the  big  box-like. 


8  YELLOW  PINS  BASIN 

rawhide  pockets  that  hang  on  either  side  from  the 
crosses  of  the  pack-saddles),  a  convenience  for  the 
stowing  away  of  all  smaller  articles,  and  at  night,  at 
one's  head,  a  wind-break.  Going  to  the  creek,  old  Zeb 
washed  his  face  and  hands,  and  from  the  pocket  of  his 
woollen  shirt  took  a  bit  of  bone  with  a  few  straggling, 
uneven  teeth,  in  their  solitude  but  a  remainder  of  what 
had  been  a  comb,  drew  it  through  his  gray  hair,  and 
muttered  to  himself :  "  Dang'd  if  we  hain't  struck  it. 
I  may  see  the  States  again,  and  Jane — Oh,  you  cussed 
old  fool! — and  Jane — My  God! — and  Jane.  I'll  go 
unbeknown  and  hang  around  till  I  see  her.  It's  been  a 
hard  pull,  but,  thank  God,  she  nor  hers  hain't  wanted 
bread,  any  way." 

On  the  old  man's  rugged  features  played  the  last 
rays  of  the  setting  sun ;  weather-beaten  with  the  storms 
and  wear  of  forty  years  of  border  life,  seamed  and 
scarred  by  steel  and  lead  was  the  canvas  on  which  a 
something — mind,  heart,  soul,  spirit — the  inner  self, 
with  master  brush  painted  out  the  ravages  of  time, 
the  scars  of  conflicts,  the  marks  and  blemishes  of 
hardships,  leaving  on  the  worn  face  something  of 
peace  and  quiet  and  beauty  that  would  have  made  one 
wonder  at  the  transformation. 

Down  behind  the  mountains  sank  the  great  kindly 
sun;  back  into  their  old  shapes  went  wrinkles  and 
scars;  into  the  locked  cabinet  of  the  old  man's  heart 
went  the  vanished  picture,  "  God  bless  her." 

"You  are  the  dangd'st  old  fool,  Zeb!"  and  with 
that  Zeb  went  back  to  his  fire. 

It  may  be  that  there  exists  in  the  heart  of  every 
one  a  desire  for  companionship,  or  it  may  be  merely 
that  the  sound  of  a  human  voice,  if  it  is  only  one's 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  9 

own,  is  a  need  of  human  life.  "Whatever  may  be  the 
cause,  men  who  are  much  alone  are  given  to  talking 
to  themselves.  Not  only  in  civilized,  but  also  in  sav 
age  man  is  this  a  habit,  generic  in  the  species ;  solitude 
develops  and  brings  out  this  innate  tendency. 

Busying  himself  cutting  slices  of  bacon,  making  the 
bread,  putting  the  coffee  in  the  boiling  water  of  the 
old  can  that  rested  on  a  bed  of  coals  before  the  fire, 
its  sides  worn  and  blackened  from  the  wear  and  soot 
of  open-air  cooking,  the  primitive  meal  was  prepared, 
with  many  a  varied  oath  and  curse  on  the  fire,  that 
one  minute  sent  its  smoke  one  way,  and  another  to  a 
different  quarter. 

"  'Twill  storm  soon,  and  I'll  bet  this  is  a  snowy 
country.  Dang  it,  if  we  ain't  struck  it,  and  mightly 
slick  it  comes,  too.  You'll  be  on  your  feet  agin,  Zeb; 
we'll  make  a  ingineer  of  him ;  Jane  had  a  head,  and 
her  boys  are  smart,  I'll  bet  ye." 

So  with  vivid  blasphemy  at  the  fire  and  his  cooking, 
and  with  his  kind  old  heart  planning  what  good  things 
in  the  future  he  saw  before  him,  or  thought  he  saw 
(for  to  men  of  his  kind  belief  is  as  a  mathematical 
demonstration),  would  bring  to  those  he  loved,  the 
preparation  of  the  meal  proceeded. 

"  I'll  know  she  has  silks,  and  diamonds  too,  afore  I 
die;  and  the  little  girl  that  has  music  in  her,  she  shall 
have  a  melodeon,  and  a  pianny  too,  by  gum!  And  I'll 
lift  the  morgige  on  Jim  Peasley's  farm,  for  the  let 
ters  he  has  wrote  me,  and  how  he's  been  good  friend 
to  me,  and  how  slick  he's  managed  it  all,  and  she  sus- 
picioning  nothing — Dang  the  blamed  fire!  "  as  a  coal 
fell  in  the  coffee  and  a  gust  of  smoke  filled  his  eyes — 
"  And  me?  "  as  the  incident  of  the  coal  passed  from 


10  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

his  mind,  "  and  me  ?  Well,  there  ain't  nothing  for  me 
only  to  know  she's  peart  and  comfortable." 

"  Why,  Uncle  Zeb,  supper  all  ready  !  The  horses 
are  all  right,  in  good  grass,  about  a  mile  up  the 
creek;  "  and  with  this  announcement  Bud  drew  up  to 
the  fire. 

' '  Is  old  Bally  quiet,  or  is  he  a-running  around, 
throwing  up  his  head  and  acting  oneasy  ?  ' ' 

11  Oh,  no;  he  is  feeding  quietly  with  all  the  rest." 

"I'm  glad  of  that,  Bud,  for  the  fire  says  storm;  but 
I'll  put  old  Bally  agin  any  fire  for  sensing  the 
weather. ' ' 

The  bread  was  turned  from  the  frying-pan  in  which 
it  had  been  baked  to  a  canvas  pack-cover;  the  other 
frying-pan,  with  the  bacon  still  sizzling,  was  drawn 
up ;  the  coffee  was  poured  out,  and  the  two  sat  down 
to  the  evening  meal. 

"  I'll  say  this  for  you,  Zeb,  I  never  saw  such  good 
bread  as  you  make,"  as,  sopping  pieces  of  it  in  the 
frying-pan,  Bud  made  the  bacon  grease  take  the 
place  of  butter. 

11  Oh,  that  ain't  nothing;  I  kin  do  right  smart  with 
sour  dough,  but  this  yer  baking  powder,  I  hain't  no 
great  conceit  of  it.  'Bout  the  making  of  it,  all  there 
is,  is  the  stirring;  ye  mustn't  stir  too  much  or  too 
little.  I'll  tell  ye  something,  Bud,  I  hain't  told  no 
man.  I  used  to  make  the  doggondest  bread  ye  ever 
see  when  this  yer  baking  powder  first  come  ;  couldn't 
seem  to  git  no  savey  of  it.  One  night  I  was  camped 
in  the  Big  Horn  country  and  was  a-goin'  to  make  bread. 
I  put  in  the  flour  and  the  salt  and  a  handful  of  bak 
ing  powder,  and  the  water,  and — 'twas  the  singularest 
thing — there  come  into  my  mind  old  Mis  Yerrence; 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  11 

hadn't  thought  of  her  for  years.  Me  and  her  boy  Bill 
Yerrence  was  thick  when  we  was  young,  and  I  uster 
go  to  her  house,  and  I'd  see  her  stirring  up  something', 
and  she  was  always  a-singing,  and  always  the  same 
thing.  She  didn't  know  but  two  lines,  and  she'd  sing 
'em  over  and  over,  and  when  I  put  my  knife  in  to 
stir  up  that  baking  of  bread,  I  began  singing  to  my 
self  her  old  song: 

"  '  I  would  not  live  alway, 
I  care  not  to  stay ; ' 

and  then  again: 

"  '  I  would  not  live  alway 
I  care  not  to  stay.' 

Just  twice  I  sang  them  lines,  and  sort  of  flopped  my 
knife  when  I  come  to  '  stay  '  and  '  alway, '  and  with 
that  I  stopped  stirring.  I  was  surprised;  that  was  as 
fine  bread  as  I  ever  eat;  wouldn't  choose  no  better.  I 
tried  it  agin,  'twas  the  same,  and  sence  then  when  I 
stir  the  baking-powder  bread  I  say  them  words ;  twice 
I  say  'em,  Bud ;  ye  want  to  make  long  stir  at  '  alway  ' 
and  agin  at  '  stay '  and  yer  all  right.  I  suppose 
there  must  be  lots  more  of  the  song,  but  I  never 
heered  only  them  two  lines.  'Tain't  no  matter,  them 
two's  all  that's  any  good ;  curous,  ain't  it  ?  You  try 
it  and  you'll  find  them  words  naterally  strike  the  gait 
to  stir  bread  on.  I  like  ye,  Bud ;  yer  a  boy  and  ye 
hain't  got  much  sense,  but  'twill  come;  and  I  kin  tell 
ye  had  good  bringing  up,  and  a  good  mother;  I  kin 
tell  it." 

As  the  color  came  in  the  young  man's  face,  old  Zeb 
put  his  hand  on  his  arm,  saying:  "  Now,  don't  tell  me 
nothing;  I  ain't  asking  nothing;  I  don't  want  to  know 


12  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

nothing.  I  bet  ye  never  stole,  nor  didn't  act  squar 
with  a  woman.  Ye  never  drew  gun  when  ye  hadn't 
cause,  an'  if  ye  did  pull  trigger  in  fair  fight,  tain't  in 
me  to  think  the  worse  of  ye,  boy.  We're  pardners, 
and  the  more  I  think  of  it,  Bud,  I  know  we'll  get  it 
rich  on  bed-rock.  I  tell  ye  that  she-bear  and  them 
cubs  didn't  come  our  way  for  nothing,  and  I  see  the 
colors  in  the  pan  was  chunky.  Why,  if  'twas  only  a 
foot  'bove  bed-rock  it's  as  good  a  prospect  as  I  ever 
see  out  of  Californy  and  Confederate  Gulch  and  Wil 
liams  Crick." 

The  dishes  belonging  to  their  homely  out-door 
kitchen  were  soused  with  hot  water  and  turned  on  edge 
to  dry.  By  the  light  from  dry  branches  thrown  on 
the  fire,  the  blankets  were  spread  on  as  level  a  spot  as 
the  vicinity  afforded;  the  "  alfallcases  "  were  placed 
at  the  head  of  the  bed,  and  all  house-keeping  affairs  for 
the  day  were  over. 

Responsive  to  the  throwing  on  of  other  dry  branches, 
the  fire  gave  out  its  cheery  light,  its  grateful  heat,  and, 
more  than  that,  the  peculiar  fascination  of  the  camp 
fire  itself.  There  is  heat,  there  is  light,  in  a  camp 
fire,  but  that  is  not  all;  there  is  something  else.  An 
emanation  comes  from  a  camp  fire  as  potent,  as  much 
a  tangible  entity,  as  a  current  of  electricity,  the  one  as 
unseen  as  the  other,  both  of  them  alike,  both  a  some 
thing  equally  unexplainable;  they  are  because  they  are. 

When  after  the  meal  is  over,  and  the  pipes  are 
lighted,  and  the  fire  burns  up  brightly,  what  mystic 
spell  some  goddess  of  the  fire  conjures  up  to  throw 
upon  those  around,  her  subjects  all ! 

The  brawler  and  the  desperado  under  its  gentle  in 
fluence  are  quiet ;  the  peevish  man,  if  such  there  be, 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  13 

forgets  his  little  ills ;  the  trials  and  the  dangers  of  the 
time,  the  fears  for  the  future,  all  are  softened.  It  has 
assuaged  defeat,  it  has  mollified  exultant  victors.  The 
thirst  of  a  dry  camp  in  Arizona,  an  Idaho  snow-storm, 
the  cold  of  Montana  and  Dakota  yield  to  the  charm 
of  the  fire. 

There  comes  over  all  within  the  circle  of  its  rays  a 
softening ;  the  doors  of  the  past  fly  open,  even  those 
of  the  burglar-proof  vaults  that  lock  into  their  secure 
recesses  the  precious,  the  dangerous,  the  humiliating 
secrets  of  human  hearts;  turn  on  hinges  often  rusty 
and  creaking  from  disuse.  The  man  is  a  child  again ; 
his  mother's  hand  rests  on  his  head;  his  father's  voice 
rings  in  his  ears ;  his  boyhood's  joys,  his  young  man 
hood's  hopes  and  aspirations,  the  failures,  the  loves,  the 
hates — all  the  life  he  has  passed,  goes  through  his 
mind. 

The  witchery  of  the  camp  fire,  by  some  law  of 
magic,  has  power  only  over  the  past.  The  future, 
with  all  its  entrancing  prospects,  its  unexplored  lands 
of  promise  girt  round  with  the  mountains  of  doubt 
and  uncertainty,  it  leaves  to  darkness  or  to  sunlight. 
By  firelight,  under  open  skies  only,  has  it  full  sway 
and  rule. 

There  is  something  of  this  before  a  fireplace  within 
walls,  but  it  is  not  there  that  we  come  so  completely 
under  the  dominion  of  the  fire  queen.  The  very 
throne  itself  has  great  pines,  or  modest  mesquite,  or 
lowly  sage  brush  for  its  walls,  and  all  of  heaven  for 
its  ceiling,  either  in  the  balmy  air  of  summer  evening 
or  in  storm  and  wintry  blast;  not  hemmed  in  by  the 
works  of  man,  but  in  open  air  holds  the  witch  queen 
her  court. 


14  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

No  voice  breaks  the  silence  about  the  fire;  with 
monotonous  regularity  the  smoke  from  the  pipes  puff 
out.  Our  two  wanderers  in  this  perfect  human  silence 
paid  homage  to  the  influence,  as  did,  when  the  race  was 
young,  Assyrian  tent-dweller  and  Chaldean  shepherd. 

"It's  time  to  turn  in,  Zeb,"  at  last  said  Bud. 
Again  he  said:  "  Bed-time,  Zeb." 

"  Yes,  Bud,"  as  the  old  man  knocked  the  ashes  from 
his  pipe,  ' '  I  was  a-thinking,  Bud ;  I  was  a- think 
ing." 

The  fire  was  drawn  together;  the  long,  deep  draught 
of  water,  the  mountain  man's  nightcap,  drunk;  the 
boots  drawn  off  and  put  down  at  the  head  of  the  bed 
as  a  foundation  for  a  pillow,  the  superstructure  of 
which  was  such  odds  and  ends  of  raiment  as  coats  and 
overalls,  and  down  lay  the  partners. 

"  What's  come  to  me  ?    We  didn't  pile  the  saddles. ' ' 

"  It  won't  storm,  Zeb,"  reassuringly  says  Bud. 

"  No,  it  won't  rain,  but  'tain't  no  way  to  camp. 
By  gum,  I've  forgot  my  gun!  I  hain't  been  so  off  in 
forty  years.  I  was  thinking,  Bud,"  and  up  got  old 
Zeb,  and  in  frontier  fashion  took  his  gun,  looked  it 
over,  saw  that  a  cartridge  was  in  the  chamber  and  the 
barrel  clear,  and  lay  down  with  it  at  his  side. 

"Do  you  think  we  had  better  put  down  a  hole 
where  we  got  the  prospect,  or  sink  one  higher  up?  " 

"I'll  give  the  ground  a  keerful  look  in  the  morning 
and  we'll  see.  Yank  uster  say  I  had  the  best  sense  in 
getting  a  place  to  sink  a  hole  of  any  man  he  ever  see. 
It  may  be  pretty  deep  to  bed-rock." 

"I  don't  care  if  it's  a  mile,"  said  Bud,  "we  will 
get  there." 

"  You  bet,  my  boy,  we'll  get  there,  and  we'll  get  it 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  15 

rich.  I  tell  ye  signs  is  for  it."  And  with  that  old 
Zeb  dropped  into  silence,  and  from  silence  into  sleep. 

Thinking  over  the  events  of  the  day,  and  speculating 
on  what  the  future  might  bring  forth,  the  young  man's 
thoughts  kept  him  longer  awake;  but  soon  the  healthy 
animal  in  him  conquered,  and  he  added  his  deep  breath 
ing  to  old  Zeb's  sonorous  snore. 

As  the  bird  flies,  in  any  direction  it  was  sixty  miles  to 
any  being  of  their  kind ;  over  a  hundred  to  any  dwell 
ing,  even  to  any  cabin;  yet  in  peace  and  quiet  slept 
these  men — quiet  unbroken,  save  by  the  screeching  of 
an  owl,  the  distant  cries  of  wolf  or  cougar,  and  at 
times  the  faint  tinkling  of  a  bell  up  the  gulch,  as  the 
mare  who  bore  it  moved  her  head  in  feeding. 


CHAPTEE  II 

IN  the  heart  of  a  country  perhaps  to  this  day  as 
inaccessible  as  any  in  our  great  "West  are  the  head 
waters  of  the  Salmon,  the  Payette,  and  the  Boise, 
with  their  many  forks.  The  beginning  of  these 
streams,  following  the  low  lines  in  the  tortuous  moun 
tain  ranges  which  radiate  from  what  seems  almost  a 
common  centre,  run  in  all  directions;  they  pass  each 
other,  they  run  around  each  other.  A  spring  near  a 
mountain  peak  sends  forth  its  trickling  stream,  other 
lower  springs  add  to  it,  it  becomes  a  rippling  thread 
of  water,  it  grows  into  a  tumbling  creek;  distance 
increases  its  volume ;  it  has  gotten  to  be  a  fork.  On 
it  rushes  till  it  is  a  river,  then  a  larger  one ;  and  other 
rivers,  born  of  other  mountain  springs,  join  it.  On  it 
goes,  ever  increasing,  until,  whether  it  be  Salmon  or 
Payette  or  Boise,  it  makes  union  with  the  Snake,  and 
then  with  stately  flow  pours  itself  into  the  mighty 
Columbia,  and  the  drop  that  left  the  little  spring  on 
some  Idaho  mountain  may  moisten  the  sands  of  far 
Cathay. 

On  one  of  the  forks  of  the  Salmon,  up  a  creek,  lies 
Yellow  Pine  Basin.  As  altitude  goes,  it  is  low 
enough  for  the  great  yellow  pine  to  lift  its  lofty  head 
and  thrive,  while  high  enough  for  the  black  pines  on 
the  more  elevated  ground  about  it.  Wherever  your 
eyes  turn,  a  great  wall  of  mountains  ridge  the  basin ; 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  17 

creeks  flow  among  the  low  hills  and  through  the  grassy 
flats,  but  on  all  sides  is  the  great  rim  of  lofty  hills. 
The  river  canons  through  it,  but  its  winding  course 
shuts  one  off  from  seeing  far,  and  all  seems  impenetra 
ble  mountain  side. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  am  writing,  the  Indian  trou 
bles  of  1876  to  1879  were  over,  and  Bannocks,  Sho- 
shones,  Sheep-eaters,  etc.,  were  closely  confined  to 
their  various  reservations.  Idaho  had  for  nearly 
twenty  years  been  a  "  gold  country,"  and  prospectors 
had  run  through  it.  Attracted  by  its  reputation,  the 
older  of  the  two  sleeping  men  had  started  early  in  the 
spring  from  the  Arizona  country  for  a  prospecting 
trip  to  the  north,  to  include  a  portion  of  western 
Montana  and  central  Idaho. 

Camping  one  night  near  the  great  Tetons  in  Mon 
tana,  a  young  fellow  came  up  and  made  camp  along 
side.  Quite  naturally,  he  strolled  over  to  old  Zeb's 
camp;  a  mutual  liking  sprung  up,  and,  as  the  young 
fellow  evidently  had  no  particular  line  of  wandering 
planned  out,  their  issues  were  joined,  and  both  started 
next  morning  to  explore  a  country  which,  from  the 
tale  of  some  old  comrade,  who  had  been  in  it  in  '63  and 
'64,  old  Zeb  had  set  his  mind  on  looking  into.  The 
two  or  three  months  previous  had  been  spent  in  cross 
ing  into  Idaho,  prospecting  along  the  main  Salmon, 
giving  Stanley  Basin  and  the  creeks  on  both  sides  an 
examination.  They  sunk  numberless  holes  to  bed 
rock,  others  until  the  water  drove  them  out,  finding 
gold  here  and  there,  but  nowhere  enough  to  pay  for 
the  working  in  the  rude  way  they  must  perforce 
work. 

Further  acquaintance  had  begotten  increased  respect 
2 


18  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

for  each  other.  The  simple,  good-natured  old  moun 
taineer  had  found  in  the  youth  and  comparative  inex 
perience  of  the  young  man  a  pleasing  companion ;  a 
ready  imbiber  of  such  practical  knowledge  of  prospect 
ing  and  general  campaigning  as  a  long  life  of  wander 
ing  had  made  him  master  of.  He  had  taught  him  to 
pack  till  he  could  throw  the  diamond  hitch  as  well  as 
any  one,  and  the  squaw  hitch  he  was  perfect  in,  both 
of  these  accepted  means  of  fastening  the  packs  tightly 
upon  the  pack  animals.  The  thousand  and  one  little 
matters  of  horse  care  and  camping,  of  making  way 
through  a  country  without  trail,  of  camp  cooking,  of 
the  proper  place  to  dig  a  hole  for  getting  a  prospect, 
of  the  panning  out  of  the  prospect,  of  the  carriage  and 
use  of  the  Winchester,  the  location  of  a  camp  and 
feeding  ground  for  the  horses,  how  to  picket  horses  by 
the  neck  or  leg — in  all  of  these  Bud  was  a  quick 
learner ;  and  the  aptness  of  the  pupil  was  most  gratify 
ing  to  the  teacher,  while  the  mystery  of  how  one  so 
unused  to  and  inexperienced  in  the  simplest  matters  of 
such  a  life  could  have  been  picked  up  by  him  in  the 
wilderness,  seemed  to  increase  an  interest  other  than 
that  produced  by  the  young  fellow's  hearty,  manly 
ways.  But  however  much  he  wondered  at  it,  and 
even  how  much  curiosity  he  may  have  felt  as  to  his 
past,  no  thought  of  inquiry  into  it  ever  came  to  Zeb ; 
if  it  had,  he  would  have  dismissed  it  as  a  most  un 
worthy  idea. 

Whatever  he  was  or  might  have  been,  "Bud,"  for 
so  on  the  first  evening  of  their  acquaintance  he  had 
said  "they  might  call  me,"  had  taken  a  measure  of 
the  old  pioneer,  for  old  Zeb  was  as  clean  cut  as  a 
shell  cameo,  and  like  one  built  up  of  many  layers,  and 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  1» 

must  have  seemed  to  one  unused  to  men  of  his  kind  a 
revelation. 

Learning,  culture,  art,  fashion,  the  force  of  public 
opinon  take  a  boy  and  leave  him  a  man.  They  may 
make  him  a  man  of  knowledge,  of  affairs ;  they  round 
the  rough  points;  they  soften  the  harsh  outlines;  and 
within  the  limits  of  talent,  of  genius,  of  sound  sense, 
of  patriotic  feeling,  of  generosity,  of  honesty ;  and  of 
ignorance,  of  stupidity,  of  folly,  of  baseness,  of  ava 
rice,  of  cupidity,  a  man  is  produced ;  one  to  outward 
seeming  very  like  another,  and  the  philanthropist 
and  the  villain  are  as  like  as  peas  in  a  pod  to  the  cas 
ual  observer.  The  absence  of  learning  and  culture, 
art,  fashion,  and  sway  of  that  public  opinion  which  is 
largely  but  the  creation  of  these,  leaves  nature  to 
work  out  its  laws,  and  the  boy  grows  into  the  man, 
and  the  man  lives  as  does  a  forest  tree.  You  see  an 
evergreen  growing  on  its  native  hillside;  you  see  the 
same  evergreen  in  a  hedge  cut  and  trimmed  and  fash 
ioned.  We  have  different  tastes:  to  some  the  wild 
tree  seems  the  more  interesting  object  of  the  two ;  to 
others,  doubtless,  the  hedge  with  its  uniform  cut  is 
more  pleasing.  But  perhaps  Bud  had  seen  many 
hedges  and  few  wild  evergreens.  At  any  rate  there 
was  something  in  the  old  man  that  attracted  and  in 
terested  him. 

The  two  had  come  upon  Yellow  Pine  Basin  in  their 
wanderings,  camped,  and  with  pan  and  pick  and  shovel 
had  gone  along  a  little  creek  and  sunk  the  hole  where 
we  first  found  them. 

As  early  morning  broke,  they  arose,  and,  fortified 
by  more  bread  and  bacon  and  coffee,  went  down  the 
creek,  when,  after  proper  weighing  of  the  surface  in- 


20  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

dications,  the  old  man  selected  the  spot,  and  they  both 
set  to  work  to  dig  a  hole,  with  the  intention  of  sinking 
through  the  ground  and  finding  solid  bed-rock  where 
grains  of  gold  should  be  heaviest  and  most  numerous. 

With  pick  and  shovel,  ' '  spelling ' '  each  other  at  the 
work,  their  sinewy  arms,  in  motion  until  dark,  threw 
out  big  rocks  and  little  ones,  sand  and  earth;  every 
hour  or  two  filling  the  gold-pan  with  the  gravel, 
which  one  or  the  other  would  pan ;  the  result  of  each 
such  operation,  by  increasing  the  richness  of  the  pros 
pect,  confirming  the  value  of  the  find. 

There  was  little  talk,  for  the  veriest  tyro  knows 
there  is  no  luck  in  talking  over  much  in  a  prospect 
hole.  When  dark  came  they  had  not  reached  bed-rock, 
and  the  water  in  the  hole  began  to  be  troublesome. 

The  next  day,  as  they  were  getting  too  deep  for  a 
man  to  easily  throw  out  the  dirt,  they  widened  the 
mouth  of  the  hole  for  a  few  feet  down,  and  thus 
formed  a  kind  of  shelf,  up  to  which  one  man  could 
shovel,  and  then  the  other  might  throw  to  the  top  of 
the  ground ;  besides,  in  bailing  out  the  water  with  the 
gold-pan,  this  shelf  allowed  a  full  pan  to  be  lifted 
from  one  to  the  other  and  then  emptied.  This  took 
time,  and  the  water  was  increasing,  so  that  only  two 
feet  in  depth  was  made  that  day.  As  the  two  went 
to  camp,  Zeb  broke  out: 

"I  suspicion  we  ain't  going  to  get  bed-rock  this 
way;  two  foot  or  so  will  let  us  out." 

"  We  can't  give  it  up  so,  Zeb ;  we  must  find  bed-rock 
with  such  a  prospect." 

"  Did  ye  say  give  her  up,  Bud?  "  said  the  old  man 
in  surprise  and  with  no  little  indignation.  "I  never 
yet  started  on  such  a  prospect  but  I  made  the  bed-rock ; 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  21 

I'll  go  to  Chiny,  but  I'll  get  it.  I  kinder  suspicion, 
though,  we've  got  to  tackle  her  in  shape  and  run  a  cut 
to  drain  the  hole.  It's  a  long  pull,  though,  to  get  the 
grade.  I  wish  to  the  Lord  'twas  June  'stead  of  Sep 
tember,  and  nigh  the  last,  too.  This  is  a  cussed  coun 
try  for  snow,  I  know.  I  see  the  snow  mark  on  the 
cottonwoods  and  she  falls  deep,  and  I  am  a-feered  she 
falls  early. " 

11  Yes,  this  is  the  28th,  Zeb,  or  thereabouts.  Let's 
see;  we  were  at  Stanley  on  the  19th,  for  I  asked  the 
day.  Sunday,  the  19th ;  we  camped  at  the  Rawhide 
that  night,  Cape  Horn  the  next  night,  into  Bear  Val 
ley  next  day,  that  would  be  the  21st;  Sulphur  Creek 
next  day,  that  was  the  22d;  we  were  there  three 
nights,  making  it  the  24th,  and,  you  remember,  I  said 
when  we  came  here,  this  makes  three  days  from  Sul 
phur  Creek,  so  that  was  the  27th.  Why,  Zeb,  this  is 
the  30th,  but  it's  only  September." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Bud,  it's  only  September,  but  ye 
don't  know  these  mountains.  "Why,  I've  seen  three 
foot  of  snow  in  September,  and  lost  every  hoof  I  had 
before  November,  the  snow  come  so  fast  and  so  deep. 
But  I  don't  fear  no  such  thing  now,  the  ground  squir 
rels  holed  too  late.  But  there's  work  into  winter, 
and  ye've  got  to  settle  it  right  now.  Stay  or  get  out, 
Bud.  If  ye  wants  to  go,  Bud,  ye  had  better  go  soon, 
'taint  no  country  to  trust  too  much  after  this.  I'm 
going  to  camp  here  for  the  winter,  if  so  be  we  don't 
get  bed-rock  before. ' ' 

"  Now,  Zeb,  don't  talk  that  way.  I  want  to  stay 
with  you.  I  am  going  to  stay  right  here  with  you. 
Since  I  met  you  in  Montana  and  we  agreed  to  go  to 
gether,  three  months  ago  nearly,  we've  gone  over  a 


22  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

great  deal  of  country  and  have  found  nothing  good 
before.  I  want  to  see  what  this  is;  besides,  I  have 
come  to  like  you,  Zeb,  and  if  you  are  willing,  I  want 
to  stay  with  you  and  put  this  thing  through." 

"  Yer  a  good  boy,  Bud.  I  wants  no  better  pard- 
ner,  I'll  say  that;  but  yer  young,  and  young  men  has 
idees  of  wintering  where  folks  cares  for  them  and 
where  they  care  for  folks." 

"I  tell  you,  Zeb,  no  one  cares  where  I  winter  or 
summer  either,  and  I  don't — well,  it's  all  the  same  to 
me." 

"  Bud,  there's  my  hand  on  it.  "We'll  get  bed-rock 
in  two  days  if  we  can,  but  we'll  get  it  if  it  takes  all 
winter.  We  can  run  the  cut  if  we  do  have  to  shovel 
snow  every  morning,  though  snow  don't  drift  here  as 
it  does  in  a  rolling  country." 

Their  hands  were  joined,  thus  signing  and  sealing 
the  agreement.  Parchment  is  covered  with  legal 
phrase,  signatures  of  contracting  parties  are  affixed  and 
red  seals  put  on  to  emphasize  the  act ;  witnesses  attest 
the  signing,  officers  of  the  law  take  acknowledgment 
of  it,  and  in  huge  volumes  of  the  record  is  a  copy 
made ;  but  two  honest  hands  joined  in  simple  fashion, 
after  simple  word,  make  a  bond  of  steel  when  often 
the  other  is  but  straw. 

That  night  these  two  talked  it  all  over. 

"  There  ain't  no  use  talking  'bout  getting  in  grub. 
I've  got  a  silver  dollar  and  a  four-bit  piece,  and  I 
know  yer  light  in  the  sack,  Bud.  We  ain't  in  no 
shape  to  get  out  a  grub  stake,  and  'twould  take  two 
weeks  or  three  to  go  out  and  pack  in  grub  if  we  had 
all  the  money  in  the  world.  We  can't  spare  the  time. 
What  a  dang'd  lucky  thing  it  was  that  I  loaded  old 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  23 

Bally  at  Sawtooth.  There's  nothing  like  having  plenty 
of  grub.  When  a  man's  got  his  gun  and  his  animals 
and  his  grub  and  his  tools,  he's  fixed  in  any  country." 
An  inventory  of  their  joint  stock  was  taken.  There 
were  three  fifty-pound  sacks  of  flour  and  part  of  an 
other.  They  "hefted"  the  bacon  and  judged  there 
was  about  thirty  pounds  of  it;  three  tins  of  baking 
powder,  ten  unbroken  packages  of  coffee  and  more; 
and,  as  Zeb  said,  "  the  bones  of  the  whole  business," 
two  ten-pound  sacks  of  salt.  So  much  for  the  com 
missariat.  Besides  this,  they  had  three  picks,  two 
shovels,  two  gold-pans,  an  axe,  and  another  smaller 
one ;  two  Winchesters,  with  cartridges  and  three  hun 
dred  rounds  of  forty-five-seventy  ammunition  ;  part 
of  a  bottle  of  Mustang  liniment,  thirteen  and  a  half 
plugs  of  tobacco,  seventeen  cartridges  of  giant  pow 
der,  a  few  five-eighth-inch  drills,  and  a  striking  ham 
mer;  fifty  feet  of  fuse,  a  box  of  giant-powder  caps, 
two  candles,  pieces  of  soap,  and  a  few  packages  of 
matches ;  three  canvas  pack-covers,  three  pack-saddles, 
two  riding-saddles,  with  bridles  and  blankets,  and 
swing  and  cinch  and  picket  ropes.  Of  individual 
property,  Zeb  had  an  old  Testament  (much  worn  as  to 
the  binding,  but  spick  and  spank  within,  wrapped  in  a 
piece  of  buckskin) ;  a  buckskin  sack  with  the  contents 
unknown  save  to  himself.  Each  had  woollen  outer  and 
inner  shirts  and  drawers,  and  China  handkerchiefs, 
and  socks,  besides  what  they  had  on;  sewing-bags, 
with  needles  and  black  linen  thread  and  beeswax 
and  such  like  trifles;  boots,  rubber  and  leather,  and 
each  a  warm  coat.  Of  course  there  were  hunting- 
knives  and  a  horse-shoeing  outiit,  and  then  there  was 
the  cooking  outfit — two  frying-pans,  an  old  coffee  can. 


24  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

an  empty  ten-pound  lard  can,  two  steel  forks  and  one 
knife,  another  one  having  been  carelessly  left  at  some 
camping  place,  three  tin  plates,  and  an  iron  Dutch  oven. 

Of  course  Zeb  had  a  dollar  and  a  half  and  Bud  a 
quarter  of  a  dollar;  but,  as  Zeb  remarked,  "That's 
more  nor  we  can  spend,  and  a  man  can't  be  no  richer 
than  that." 

After  talking  it  all  over,  these  things  were  to  be 
done,  Zeb,  from  his  experience,  announcing  them  in 
order:  The  cut  was  to  be  run,  and  that  so  as  to  drain 
the  water  fifteen  feet  deeper  than  the  present  bottom 
of  their  hole,  now  dignified  by  the  appellation  of 
shaft.  Other  things  were  to  be  done  accessory  to  the 
main  thing,  but  none  the  less  necessary,  and  they  in 
volved  time  in  the  doing.  There  was  a  cabin  to  be 
built,  a  supply  of  meat  was  to  be  put  in  before  the  elk 
and  deer  left  the  country  for  the  winter,  for  until  the 
far-away  spring  came,  they  must  live  mainly  on  meat, 
fresh,  salted,  and  jerked.  The  horses,  too,  were  also 
to  be  taken  to  some  lower  country  where  they  could 
winter;  they  judged  a  fit  place  for  them  could  be 
found  forty  miles  or  so  down  the  Salmon,  where  they 
could  turn  out  the  animals  and  find  them  fat  and 
strong  in  the  spring,  but  they  need  not  go  there  with 
them  until  the  storms  began,  so  that  was  off  their 
minds,  for  a  time  at  least. 

"  I  will  go  with  a  couple  of  packs,  Zeb.  Yes,  I'll 
go  to-morrow  night  to  the  big  lick  we  saw.  It  can't 
be  ten  miles  from  here,  and  I'll  get  the  venison  we 
want." 

"That  ain't  no  go,  Bud;  deer  don't  go  to  licks 
this  time  o'  year;  when  the  browse  and  weeds  are 
green  and  full  of  juice,  a  deer  hankers  after  something 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  35 

salt;  when  they  get  old  and  dry  he  don't  want  none. 
You  might  stand  in  that  lick  from  now  to  Christmas 
and  ye  wouldn't  see  a  deer.  The  bucks  have  come 
down  from  the  high  rocks  where  they  have  been 
a-laying  in  the  sun  a-drying  their  horns,  and  are  a-run- 
ning.  Now,  or  a  few  days  before  storm,  they  will  be  in 
the  low  hills,  kinder  oneasy ;  one  eye  out  for  browse, 
the  other  on  the  weather,  and  both  on  'em.  on  the 
does.  Come  a  little  snow,  and  out  they  put,  bucks, 
does,  and  fawns.  'T won't  be  no  trick  to  get  plenty  up 
the  crick  or  on  the  low  hills ;  elk  sign  is  all  round,  too. 
I  heered  a  bull  call  nearby." 

It  was  decided  to  first  lay  out  the  "cut,"  this 
meaning  a  trench,  the  bottom  of  which  should  leave 
the  surface  of  the  ground  far  enough  below  the  hole 
they  were  digging  to  drain  the  water  from  it  fifteen 
feet  below  its  then  depth,  for,  on  examination,  they 
found  this  was  as  deep  as  they  could  drain  the  hole  or 
shaft,  on  the  grade  necessary,  without  making  too 
long  a  cut ;  and,  even  as  it  was  to  be,  it  made  a  long 
cut,  and  much  labor  would  be  required  to  complete  it. 

The  first  thing  was  to  make  sure  of  the  meat,  so 
the  next  morning,  after  having,  in  a  rough  way, 
surveyed  the  line  of  the  cut  and  located  where  to  be 
gin,  Bud  went  to  work  on  it,  and  Zeb,  with  his  Win 
chester  and  long  hunting-knife,  went  after  deer.  It 
had  been  a  frosty  night.  The  laying  out  of  the  course 
of  the  cut  had  taken  time,  so  the  sun  was  high  when 
the  hunt  besran. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  hunting  of  game  resolves  itself  under  three 
heads:  hunting  for  pleasure,  hunting  for  profit,  and 
hunting  for  both  pleasure  and  profit  combined. 

I  question  if  a  true  sportsman  ever  went  forth  to 
kill  so  inoffensive  and  harmless  an  animal  as  a  deer,  a 
creature  whose  very  size  makes  strong  protest  against 
its  wanton  destruction,  without  some  such  feeling  as 
this:  "  The  venison  I  hope  to  get  will  be  of  use  to  my 
friends  or  to  myself ;  it  will  not  be  wasted ; ' '  and  saying 
to  himself:  "  I  will  kill  a  deer  because  I  have  use  for 
it." 

The  man  who  goes  out  to  kill  deer  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  seeing  them  drop,  leaving  their  carcasses 
to  rot  where  they  fall,  lacks  in  every  fibre  of  his  being 
the  sportsman's  soul.  He  is  not  of  that  ancient  and 
honorable  guild;  he  is  a  butcher,  plain  and  simple, 
despised  by  all  true  followers  of  gentle  and  manly 
woodcraft. 

The  hunter  for  profit,  truly  his  way  of  life  is  not 
what  we  or  he  would  wish;  but  nevertheless  he  may 
have  the  instincts,  as  he  has  in  some  degree  the  pleas 
ures,  of  a  sportsman. 

Many  years  ago  I  camped  one  night  near  a  party, 
an  Englishman — a  nobleman — his  guides,  and  among 
them  one — we  will  call  him  Jim  Stevens — a  hunter, 
who  killed  deer  and  elk,  and  sold  the  meat;  a  pot- 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  27 

hunter,  as  men  call  them.  In  the  morning  we  all  rode 
on  a  bit  together.  The  Englishman  told  me  with 
great  glee  that  he  had  killed  nine  elk  the  previous  day, 
leaving  them,  all  but  one,  where  they  died.  As  we 
rode  on,  Jim  Stevens  came  alongside,  and,  when  we 
were  somewhat  by  ourselves,  the  rough,  rude  plains 
man  said  to  me :  ' '  It's  awful  to  kill  an  elk  and  leave 
him  to  rot.  I'm  sick  of  it.  I  am  going  to  quit  this 
outfit."  And  I  thought,  as  my  eyes  rested  on  this 
lordly  butcher,  You  may  be  a  peer  of  England,  but 
you  are  not  the  peer  of  Jim  Stevens. 

But  the  hunter  who  goes  forth  to  hunt,  justified  in 
his  own  mind  because  there  is  a  use  to  be  made  of  the 
game  he  may  kill,  into  what  paths  of  noble  pleasure 
does  he  not  stray  ?  Here  does  eye  and  brain,  hand 
and  heart  work  together.  It  is  being  a  man ;  all  his 
faculties  come  into  play — his  reason,  his  craft,  his  pa 
tience,  his  steadiness  of  nerve,  while,  at  the  same  time, 
in  some  degree,  all  the  physical  powers  are  exercised. 
This  man  feels  his  God-given  dominion  over  the 
beasts  of  the  field. 

With  springy  step  and  brightened  eye,  for  he  is 
going  a-hunting,  Zeb  went  up  the  creek.  Low  foot 
hills  came  down  to  the  little  valley  and  rose  back  to 
lofty  mountains,  and  with  the  knowledge  born  of  ex 
perience  the  hunter  turned  up  into  the  hills.  Soon  a 
doe  scampered  past  him,  startled  by  his  movements; 
but  no  good  man  would  kill  a  doe  if  there  was  a  fair 
chance  to  get  a  buck,  and  so  she  bounded  away  un 
scathed.  At  last  he  took  his  ground  on  a  hillside 
with  willows  at  the  bottom,  and  scattered  pines  here 
and  there  over  it,  through  which  the  autumn  sun 
found  spots  of  bare  earth  to  brighten.  Near  a  large 


28  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

tree  he  sat  down  as  motionless  as  its  trunk,  his  rifle 
where  he  could  quietly  and  quickly  raise  it  for  a  sight. 
He  might  have  been  there  ten  minutes  when  a  rustling 
of  the  underbrush  was  heard,  and  within  forty  yards 
of  him  came  out  a  four-point  buck,  fat  and  sleek. 
Unconscious  of  his  surroundings,  he  stopped  in  a 
sunny  spot  and  began  the  antics  of  the  buck  dance. 
He  jumped  up,  and  gathering  his  feet  well  under  him, 
struck  the  ground  with  all  four  at  once;  he  lowered 
his  head  and  made  feints  and  passes  with  his  horns 
at  a  neighboring  tree,  perhaps  practising  for  combat 
with  some  rival  who,  to  his  jealous  mind,  seemed  too 
ardent  in  his  attentions  to  mutual  acquaintances 
among  the  does ;  or  perhaps  he  was  getting  the  most  of 
the  play  in  the  warm  sunlight  that  his  instinct  told 
him  would  go  into  clouds,  and  they  into  storm,  when  it 
would  be  cold,  cheerless  work  to  get  a  living  until 
spring  and  sun  came  again. 

Zeb  watched  him  with  interest,  as  who  has  not  done 
when  he  has  caught  a  buck  when  he  thinks  himself 
so  much  alone  that  he  can  make  a  fool  of  himself  to 
his  heart's  content.  "What  pranks  and  capers  does  his 
seeming  privacy  give  occasion  to  ! 

The  man  he  saw,  but  he  was  as  the  trees,  motionless, 
and  he  had  no  more  fear  of  him  than  of  them.  At  last 
Zeb  thought  of  the  meat  that  must  be  had,  and  with  a 
sharp  whistle  he  raised  his  Winchester,  and  as  the 
buck  threw  up  his  head,  put  the  bullet  through  his 
brain.  In  a  minute  he  was  on  him  with  his  knife ;  the 
knife  went  to  the  right  place  in  his  neck,  and  death 
came  quickly.  Over  a  dry  log  he  threw  the  body 
and  prepared  it  for  packing  to  camp,  separating  the 
sides  with  a  stick  between  them.  Leaving  the  veni- 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  29 

son  he  went  after  other  bucks.  One  he  killed  on  the 
run ;  and  a  pretty  shot  it  was,  for  the  buck  was  in  the 
timber  thirty  rods  or  so  away  and  running  bohind  in 
tervening  trees.  Quickly  measuring  the  distance  with 
his  eye,  and  gauging  how  high  above  the  ground  his 
heart  would  be  when  he  came  out  from  behind  a  cer 
tain  big  tree,  he  took  aim  and  pulled  trigger  when  he 
could  first  see  his  horns,  and  bullet  and  heart  met 
when  the  buck's  body  appeared,  though  the  target 
was  hidden  when  he  fired.  A  man  who  has  made  that 
shot  knows  how  Zeb  felt. 

I  suppose  as  things  go  in  this  world  the  Czar  of 
Russia  has  power  and  wealth  and  would  himself  con 
fess  to  being  in  a  most  comfortable  situation,  so  far 
as  place  goes.  The  Presidency  of  these  United  States 
is  a  position  of  honor,  of  power,  of  some  financial 
value;  a  grand  recompense  for  praiseworthy  ambi 
tion.  The  Rothschilds — the  total  of  the  Rothschilds  I 
mean — are  rich  in  silver  and  gold,  and  wield  the  power 
such  baubles  bring  in  this  commercial  age;  but  there 
are  brief  moments  in  a  man's  life  when  Czar  and  Pres 
ident,  even  the  money  kings,  are  of  the  common  herd ; 
they  are  not  envied;  they  beget  not  even  the  most 
languid  interest  in  themselves  or  their  surroundings, 
one  feels  so  much  above  them  all.  So  Zeb  felt  as  he 
went  up  to  that  buck,  and  so,  I  presume,  felt  some 
other  man  or  men,  ages  ago,  when  Alexander,  Cyrus, 
or  Croesus  stood  for  power,  position,  wealth,  and 
all  that  seemed  fullest  of  the  great  and  the  good 
things  in  life. 

To  those  who  have  never  made  the  shot,  or  whose 
interest  in  the  hunt  is  dead,  or  who  never  felt  the 
promptings  for  the  chase,  I  can  say  it  was  a  good 


30  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

shot,  a  grand  shot ;  one  a  man  tries  many  times  before 
he  makes  it  at  all,  and  is  never  so  sure  of  making  that 
his  heart  doesn't  swell  when  he  does  make  it. 

Other  bucks  were  killed,  and  so  near  the  camp  were 
they  all,  that  before  dark  six  fine  deer  were  hanging 
on  the  trees  back  of  it. 

Bud  had  made  fair  headway  at  his  work,  and 
nearly  enough  meat  was  in  hand.  They  would  get 
more  from  time  to  time  before  the  great  storms  came. 
A  cabin  was  to  be  built,  and  the  fine  weather  ought 
to  be  taken  advantage  of,  so  that  evening  it  was 
decided  that  the  young  man  should  cut  suitable 
trees  next  day  for  house  logs,  and  Zeb,  having  been 
"a-playing  all  day,"  as  he  said,  would  turn  in  and 
make  dirt  fly  on  that  "yer  cut."  When  the  logs 
were  cut,  and  snaked  by  old  Bally  to  their  place, 
both  would  work  together  and  build  the  cabin  and 
fireplace,  and  put  the  roof  on. 

In  a  few  days  the  logs  were  ready  on  the  site 
selected,  the  venison  was  in  process  of  jerking,  and  the 
cut  had  made  a  most  satisfactory  progress. 

Hard  toil  brought  good  appetites  and  long  sleep,  so 
that  after  work,  bread,  venison,  and  coffee,  and  a  smoke 
brought  them  to  bed-time. 

The  weather  was  all  that  could  be  desired,  so  they 
felt  reasonably  sure  of  having  a  roof  over  them  before 
the  snow  began. 

A  cabin  sixteen  feet  by  eighteen  feet  had  been  de 
cided  on,  and  when  the  logs  were  all  on  the  ground, 
they  set  themselves  to  build  it.  The  logs  were 
notched,  and  set  into  each  other  at  the  corners,  not 
to  leave  too  wide  a  space  between  them  to  be  filled 
with  the  chinking.  With  rock  and  mud  a  fireplace 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  31 

was  built,  with  a  good  chimney  of  the  same  ma 
terials. 

They  split  shakes  for  the  roof,  finding  a  tree  to 
make  them  of  so  straight  grained  that  the  shakes  split 
from  it  were  almost  as  true  as  if  they  had  been  sawed, 
and  made  a  roof  as  good  as  one  of  shingles.  Having 
no  nails,  they  were  forced  to  pin  them  to  the  rafters 
with  little  wooden  pegs,  but  that  would  do  for  a  time 
well  enough. 

A  canvas  pack-cover  made  a  door,  or  rather  stopped 
up  the  door-hole,  and  another  served  in  the  same  way 
for  a  window ;  for  the  floor,  the  ground  was  shorn  of 
the  sod  and  the  dirt  packed  down ;  frequent  sprink 
ling  with  water  would  make  it  smooth  and  hard. 
The  cracks  between  the  logs  were  chinked  with  pieces 
of  wood  rudely  cut  to  fill  them  and  then  plastered 
over  with  mud. 

Not  a  nail  had  "been  used,  for  they  had  none  to  use, 
and  the  only  tool  was  an  axe ;  but  when  it  was  done, 
it  was  comfortable.  True,  the  door  and  the  window, 
with  the  canvas  coverings,  were  not  impervious  to  the 
wind,  but  most  of  it  was  kept  out.  Such  a  house  is 
not  to  be  thought  lightly  of ;  it  has  its  good  points, 
and  I  doubt  if  the  combined  skill  of  the  architectural 
designers  could  devise  a  more  healthy,  wholesome, 
house  than  a  log  cabin  with  a  good  roof  and  fireplace 
and  a  dirt  floor;  of  course  the  floor  must  be  high 
enough  to  have  the  dampness  drain  away  from  it. 
With  this,  and  the  house  so  constructed  as  to  keep  out 
the  rain  and  snow,  it  can  hold  its  own  against  any 
known  form  of  habitation,  so  far  as  simple  comfort 
and  health  go. 

Then  it  was  thought  a  meat-house  to  store  the  meat 


32  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

and  other  stores  in  would  be  a  good  thing  to  have,  and 
so  in  a  day's  time  this  was  built  a  little  distance  away. 

Another  day  and  some  evenings  after  that  it  took  to 
build  a  bunk  for  each,  and  out  of  poles  and  deer  hides 
with  the  hair  on  to  make  two  chairs. 

"  'Tain't  like  we'll  have  company,"  said  Zeb. 

In  this  building  and  fitting  up  Bud  appeared  to 
great  advantage.  He  could  handle  an  axe  very 
deftly,  and  as  that  was  all  there  was  to  work  with, 
his  handiness  came  into  good  play.  Zeb  was  never 
tired  of  commenting  on  his  skill. 

"  Did  ye  learn  the  carpentering  trade?  "  he  asked 
him,  as  he  had  just  finished  a  chair.  "  I  never  see  a 
better  chair  nor  this." 

11  It  ought  to  be  a  good  chair,  Zeb,  for  I've  made  it 
for  you,  and  you  ought  to  have  a  good  chair;  but  I 
never  had  an  axe  in  my  hand  until  two  weeks  before 
I  saw  you." 

"  What's  that  ye  say,  Bud?  Never  had  an  axe  in 
yer  hand  ?  Why,  where  were  ye  raised  ?  Didn't  ye 
have  ter  cut  fire- wood?  All  boys  has." 

"  I  was  born  and  raised  in  New  York,  and  there's 
no  fire- wood  there  to  cut ;  at  any  rate,  I  never  cut  any 
of  it." 

"Well,  that's  a  fine  chair,  and  I  thanks  ye,  Bud. 
I'll  sit  in  it  this  winter  and  smoke  and  tell  yarns. 
Some  men  can  live  without  talking,  but  it  ain't  me. 
I'd  like  to  hear  'bout  New  York,  and  you  kin  give 
me  the  lay  of  it.  We'll  be  dang  comfortable  and 
sociable  here,  you  bet.  Was  it  New  York  town  ye 
meant,  Bud,  or  New  York  State?  " 

"  Well,  both,  Zeb,  for  I  was  born  and  raised  in  New 
York  City,  and  that's  in  New  York  State,  of  course." 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  33 

One  night  everything  was  finished,  and  the  cut  had 
been  worked  on  every  day  but  three.  Bud,  who  kept 
the  run  of  the  days,  said  something  about  everything 
being  ready  for  Sunday. 

' '  Is  to-morrow  Sunday  ?  ' '  said  Zeb. 

"Yes,  it  will  be  Sunday;  this  is  Saturday  night," 
Bud  answered. 

"Well,  we'll  keep  Sunday;  we  won't  work,  we'll 
wash  up  and  lay  around  and  obsarve  the  day.  A  man 
should  be  pious  once  in  a  while;  it  does  him  good. 
Lord,  if  my  old  mother  could  see  me  most  Sundays, 
a-working  or  a-travelling,  how  she  would  talk !  We 
was  all  Baptists,  and  we  was  brought  up  that  strict  we 
hated  Sunday.  I'll  never  feel  I'm  right  sure  of  salva 
tion  'till  I  can  get  to  hating  Sundays  agin.  Now 
they're  like  other  days,  I  can't  get  up  no  real  hate  at 
'em.  'Tain't  right,  I  know  'tain't  right;  somehow  I 
always  have  something  to  do  on  Sunday,  if  I  know 
when  Sunday  comes,  and  when  a  man  is  prospecting 
it's  dang  hard  to  be  pious.  Still,  'tain't  no  great 
thing,  when  you  think  of  it,  to  knock  off  work  on 
every  Sunday  and  to  keep  from  cussing  one  day  out  of 
seven,  but  it's  onhandy,  of  course.  Some  men  can  do 
it.  There  was  Yank ;  he  never  cussed  on  Sunday,  never 
worked  on  Sunday,  never  did  nothing;  'twas  his  day 
to  wash  up  and  go  'round  camp.  If  there  was  a  game, 
and  luck  was  agin  him  or  with  him,  didn't  make  no 
difference;  ye'd  think  he  was  a  preacher,  he  took  it  all 
so  mild,  and  he  was  always  a-shooting  Bible  texts  out 
of  him  all  day  long.  Often  I  heard  him  say  on  Sun 
day  night:  '  I've  done  my  duty  by  the  day,'  and  he'd 
feel  so  good  and  pious  over  it. ' ' 

Sunday  came,  a  beautiful  day,  and  the  clothes  were 
3 


34  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

washed  and  the  baths  taken,  and,  in  honor  of  the 
day,  Zeb  made  a  duff  of  deer  suet  and  flour  and  sugar 
that  was  considered  a  triumph,  and  they  went  down 
the  creek  and  fished,  and  looked  at  their  work,  and 
speculated  as  to  how  long  it  would  take  them  to  finish 
it.  They  aired  their  blankets,  and  cut  dry  grass  for 
their  bunks,  and  had  the  sewing-bags  out  and  mended 
their  clothes,  and  otherwise  passed  the  day,  as  Zeb 
said,  like  "  church  folks." 

The  frequent  pannings  of  the  gravel  as  they  drove 
in  the  cut  were  satisfactory,  and  they  worked  with 
good  heart. 

It  might  have  been  two  weeks  after  their  coming  to 
Yellow  Pine  Basin  when  the  weather,  that  up  to  that 
time  had  been  mild  and  pleasant,  began  to  show  signs 
of  a  change.  The  horses,  having  appeased  their  hun 
ger  and  recovered  from  the  fatigues  of  the  several 
days'  travel  before  camp  was  made,  had  come  up  from 
time  to  time,  as  horses  will  under  such  circumstances, 
to  lick  whatever  salt  had  been  thrown  out  and  to  keep 
up  that  intimacy  with  their  owners  which  to  the 
equine  mind  of  a  prospector's  animal  seems  the  proper 
thing.  Old  Bally,  a  sturdy  old  horse,  who  for  ten 
years  or  more  had  followed  Zeb  from  Mexico  to  Brit 
ish  Columbia,  and  for  whose  general  knowledge  and 
good  horse  sense  his  master  had  profound  respect, 
was  the  leader  of  the  little  band.  It  was  evident  that 
something  unusual  was  the  matter  with  him.  He 
ran  about  uneasily,  throwing  back  his  head,  coming  up 
to  the  cabin  in  the  evening  and  during  the  night. 

"  We're  going  to  have  a  storm,  Bud.  I  kin  tell  by 
the  way  old  Bally  acts;  but  he  don't  think  'twill  be 
very  much  or  he  would  be  a-pawing,  and  he  don't 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  35 

paw  none,"  said  Zeb  one  evening,  and  in  the  morning 
there  was  a  little  snow  on  the  ground,  the  first  of  the 
late  season. 

This  seemed  to  remind  them  of  various  things  to  do, 
and  one  was  to  get  more  meat.  Guided  by  the  old 
man's  advice,  Bud  went  out,  and  the  glee  with  which 
he  brought  in  two  deer  while  Zeb  was  getting  supper 
after  his  work,  showed  that  it  was  a  new  experience 
to  him. 

* '  I  killed  one  of  them  with  one  shot  and  I  shot  the 
other  three  times,"  he  said.  "  See  that,  Zeb;  right  in 
the  heart;  the  other  one  I  didn't  get  a  good  sight  of, 
but  I  brought  him  after  a  while. ' ' 

"  Yes,  that's  a  pretty  shot  in  the  heart,  but  let  me 
tell  ye,  Bud,  if  ye  can  see  the  deer,  the  head's  the 
place  to  aim  at.  If  ye  hit  the  deer,  it's  pretty  sure  ye 
kill  him.  If  ye  aim  at  the  heart,  it's  a  chance  to  hit 
it,  for  a  deer's  heart  is  small,  but  ye'll  probably  crip 
ple  him  and  he'll  go  off  somewhere  and  die.  If  ye 
shoot  at  a  deer  and  miss  him,  some  other  man  may  kill 
him  in  a  year  or  in  five,  but  if  ye  cripple  a  deer, 
don't  do  you  nor  nobody  no  good;  it's  waste,  it's 
waste." 

"That's  so,  Zeb,  that's  so.  I  never  thought  of 
that,  but  when  I  saw  the  deer,  I  fired  at  the  heart, 
because  in  all  the  books  I  ever  read  it  was  always 
spoken  of  as  the  place  to  aim  at;  and  I  never  killed 
but  one  deer  before,  and  that  was  just  before  we  met 
in  Montana." 

"  Well,  when  a  man's  writing  a  book,  it's  well 
enough;  anything  goes  then,  but  it  ain't  right,  for  the 
reason  I  tell  ye.  But  them  are  fine  deer,  and  you 
put  in  a  good  day.  Ye'll  get  sense,  Bud,  'twill  come. 


36  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

I  never  see  a  boy  larn  as  you've  done.  I  did  a  piece 
of  work,  too,  beside  that  in  the  crick.  I  took  the  axe 
and  went  up  the  hill  a  piece,  and  cut  a  snowshoe  tree ; 
she's  a  beauty,  too,  straight  grained  is  no  name  for 
it;  and  I  split  out  enough  for  two  pair." 

"  Snowshoe  tree,  Zeb ?     I  don't  understand." 

"  Snow's  a-coming  soon,  and  we've  got  to  have  some 
shoes,  and  it's  little  enough  time  for  the  wood  to 
dry." 

"Make  snowshoes  out  of  a  log,  do  you,  Zeb?  I 
don't  know  anything  about  them. ' ' 

"Ye  don't;  might  have  known  that.  Yes,  we 
make  'em  out  of  a  log.  Good  fir's  the  best  thing  in 
this  country  to  make  'em  of.  We'll  tote  the  sticks 
down  here  and  put  'em  in  the  cabin  where  they'll 
dry,  and  in  the  evenings  we'll  make  the  shoes.  I 
kinder  thought,  seeing  ye  are  so  dang  handy  with 
an  axe,  I'd  ask  ye  to  make  'em;  it's  slow  work  for 
me." 

"You  tell  me  what  you  want  and  how  to  do  it, 
Zeb,  and  I'll  try,"  said  Bud. 

In  a  day  or  two  the  snow  went  off,  and  though 
slightly  colder,  it  was  fine  weather  again. 

The  two  worked  hard  at  their  cut,  which  had  now 
begun  to  show  the  effects  of  two  weeks'  labor.  They 
could  still  throw  out  the  gravel,  but  as  there  would 
soon  come  a  time  when  the  dirt  would  have  to  be 
wheeled  out,  they  had  a  wheelbarrow  and  wheeling 
planks  on  which  to  run  the  barrow  to  make.  To 
make  a  wheelbarrow  out  of  a  standing  tree  with  only 
an  axe  and  a  pocket-knife,  draws  no  little  on  one's 
ingenuity,  particularly  when  you  haven't  a  bit  of 
iron,  not  even  a  nail,  to  make  it  with,  and  takes  time. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  37 

Wheeling  planks  are  easier  to  make;  you  need  only  to 
cut  the  logs  and  hew  them  down  with  the  axe.  For 
tunately,  among  Zeb's  effects  was  an  old  grindstone, 
worn  down  until  it  was  hardly  a  foot  in  diameter ;  this, 
lying  under  the  pack-saddles,  had  been  overlooked  in 
the  inventory  taken,  and  strangely,  too,  for  it  was  a 
much  prized  possession  of  the  old  man.  A  tree  was 
cut  down,  and  a  rough  wheel  hewed  out,  which  was 
to  be  finished  some  evening  in  the  cabin,  after  it  had 
lain  there  long  enough  to  dry  a  little,  and  the  other 
parts  were  roughly  cut,  to  be  fashioned  and  the  whole 
to  be  made  during  the  evenings.  The  wheeling 
planks,  three  of  them,  thirty  feet  long  and  about  eight 
inches  wide,  and  three  or  four  inches  thick,  were 
hewed  out  so  they  might  be  drying  and  be  less 
heavy  to  carry  about.  But  one  man  was  always  kept 
at  work  in  the  cut.  When  both  could  work  there,  its 
progress  was  so  much  more  satisfactory  that  they 
grudged  any  time  spent  away  from  it,  but,  of  course, 
these  necessary  things  had  to  be  done.  As  soon  as  it 
was  light  the  work  begun,  and  only  when  it  was  too 
dark  to  see  did  they  quit  it. 

Zeb  was  one  of  those  wiry,  muscular  men  whose 
vigor  only  extreme  age  seems  to  impair,  and  though 
he  was  "  Old  Zeb  "  from  the  coast  to  the  Rockies,  he 
was  hardly  sixty.  Bud,  though  in  the  prime  of 
young  manhood,  and  a  powerful  fellow  too,  perhaps 
because  hard  labor  might  have  been  new  to  him,  had 
all  he  could  do  to  keep  pace  with  the  old  man's  tire 
less  energy,  and  often  went  to  bed  fagged  out,  and 
arose  stiff  and  sore  next  morning;  but  he  was  getting 
used  to  it,  and  made  so  good  a  hand  that  many  were 
the  compliments  he  received,  and  together  they  did 


38  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

the  work  of  five  men,  for  their  hearts  were  in  it  and 
they  wished  to  take  advantage  of  the  favoring 
weather.  For  a  day  or  two  there  had  been  signs  of 
storm  both  from  Bally  and  the  heavens,  until  one 
night  they  went  to  bed  with  the  expectation  of  seeing 
the  ground  whitened  again. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  storm  came  during  the  night,  but  by  morning 
the  rifts  in  the  clouds  indicated  clearing  weather. 
Only  a  few  inches  of  snow  had  fallen  when  Zeb  put 
aside  the  canvas  curtain  and  looked  out. 

"  Let's  go  hunting,  Bud;  couldn't  be  no  better  time. 
I  see  bear  sign  all  round  here,  and  a  couple  of  good 
skins  would  come  mighty  handy.  They're  prime 
now." 

"  That  would  suit  me.  I  never  killed  a  bear,  and 
never  saw  a  wild  one,  except  those  we  saw  that  day. 
That's  a  grand  idea,  Zeb;  I'd  give  anything  to  kill  a 
bear,"  and  the  young  man  jumped  from  his  bed. 

After  breakfast  the  guns  were  examined,  the  car 
tridge-belts  replenished,  and  the  knives  whetted,  Zeb 
taking  great  pains  with  his  long,  two-edged,  dagger- 
like  blade. 

"When  a  man  tackles  a  big  bear,  Bud,"  he  said, 
"if  he's  got  sense,  he's  got  a  long  knife,  a  sharp- 
pointed  one,  too,  and  it  must  be  where  he  kin  lay  his 
hand  on  it.  Bears  is  hard  to  kill,  and  less  the  ground 
favors  you,  don't  never  shoot  a  grizzly  less  yer  far 
enough  away  to  put  in  a  couple  more  shots  'fore  he 
kin  git  at  ye.  Wound  one  of  them  fellers  and  he 
comes  for  ye  like  a  fool  hen  flies;  black  or  brown  or 
baldliead  ain't  so  bad.  These  yer  Rocky  Mountain 
grizzlies  ain't  like  them  in  the  Sierris,  but  they're 


40  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

nasty.  That's  when  ye  want  yer  knife  and  want  it 
bad;  when  a  bear's  a-charging,  less  you  can  put  a  shot 
in  his  brain,  you  can't  faze  him;  when  he  downs  his 
head  a  little,  and  ye  kin  hit  his  eye  and  are  spry 
enough  to  jump  one  side,  ye  have  him.  If  ye  miss  the 
eye,  the  bullet's  like  to  glance  off  his  skull,  and  'tis  a 
shot  takes  nerve.  After  a  man's  forty,  he  hain't  no 
business  with  that  shot,  and  then  few  men  has  any 
business  with  a  bear  at  that  distance  anyway.  If  ye 
make  the  eye  shot  and  he  drops  as  ye  jump  aside, 
there  ain't  nothing  that  sets  a  man  up  like  that.  Ye 
remember  it  all  yer  life ;  that's  hunting.  If  ye  miss, 
drop  yer  gun  and  draw  yer  knife,  and  if  ye  are  quick 
and  strike  his  heart  ye  may  be  lucky  enough  to  get  off 
with  some  bad  scratches;  it's  yer  only  show. 

"The  sun  will  be  out  soon,  and  the  bears  won't 
move  much;  they  like  to  sun 'emselves  after  a  cold, 
wet  night,  and  in  this  light  snow  we  can  track  'em 
easy.  Still,  bear  is  oncertain,  ye  can't  reckon  on  'em. 
We  may  strike  a  trail  and  have  to  follow  it  all  day,  so 
we'd  better  take  some  grub,  case  we  have  to  be  out 
over  night." 

"When  all  was  ready,  a  start  was  made,  with  Zeb  in 
the  lead,  just  as  the  sun  began  to  come  out  from  the 
clouds.  The  fog  lay  thick  on  the  basin  and  the  low 
hills,  over  which,  towards  the  mountains  to  the  south, 
their  course  lay.  A  sharp  walk  of  an  hour  brought 
them  to  much  higher  ground.  Below  lay  a  great 
lake  of  fog,  covering  Yellow  Pine  Basin,  and  out  from 
it,  like  islands,  here  and  there,  were  the  tops  of  hills, 
and  down  the  mountain  sides  great  detached  masses  of 
fog  slowly  settled. 

Bud  stopped  and  gazed  on  the  picture  below  them, 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  41 

which  it  took  little  stretch  of  the  imagination  to  be 
lieve  was  a  water  scene. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  looking  down  on  New  York 
Bay ;  it  makes  me  think  of  home,  or  what  was  home. 
How  strange  it  is,"  he  said,  "  the  things  a  man  cares 
the  least  about  thinking  of  come  up  to  him  so  unex 
pectedly.  If  there  is  something  he  don't  wish  to  think 
of,  anything  brings  it  to  his  mind.  You  can  break 
yourself  of  every  habit  but  that. ' ' 

''That's  so,  Bud.  Some  things  are  like  a  sore 
thumb ;  ye  forget  all  about  it,  and  then  yer  thumb  hits 
something  and  ye  have  to  remember  it.  'Pears  to  me 
I  see  a  track  up  yon  hill  looks  like  it  might  be  a  bear 
track." 

Going  over  to  the  hill,  it  proved  to  be  a  bear  track, 
"not  an  hour  old,  too,"  Zeb  pronounced  it  to  be. 
They  took  up  the  trail,  and  in  the  excitement  of  his 
first  bear  hunt  the  gloomy  look  on  Bud's  face,  the 
memory  awakened  by  the  lake  of  fog,  gave  place  to 
one  more  suited  to  the  emotion  of  the  chase.  They 
could  see,  as  they  looked  from  the  small  rise  of  ground 
they  had  mounted,  the  trail  turning  towards  some 
bushes  in  the  valley  below. 

"  Now's  the  time  I  wish  we  had  a  couple  of  good 
dogs  to  go  in  and  hold  the  bear  till  we  could  get  a 
shot.  He's  down  there  among  them  bushes,  and 
we've  got  to  be  mighty  sly  or  we'll  lose  him.  He 
won't  move  for  a  while  and  we've  got  to  git  on  him. 
I  can't  see  him,  but  it's  a  moral  certinty  he's  behind 
the  bushes.  "We're  right  with  the  wind ;  'tain't  like 
he'll  see  us.  A  bear  mostly  feeds  with  his  head  to  the 
wind,  and  he's  a-feeding  on  the  browse,  or  he's  stand 
ing  in  the  sun.  If  he's  feeding,  we  kin  steal  up  on 


42  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

him;  if  he  ain't  feeding,  only  sunning  himself,  his 
eyos  are  half  shut  and  his  back  is  towards  us  where  it 
gets  the  sun,  but  he'll  hear  quicker  nor  if  he  was 
a-chawing  of  the  bushes.  I  can't  see  the  trail  beyond 
that  big  clump,  and  he's  behind  it,  I  bet  ye.  If  we  go 
down  on  him,  chances  are  we  won't  git  no  good  shot; 
we'll  go  over  yon  and  come  down  as  nigh  him  as  we 
kin ;  the  trees  is  thick  there  and  we  kin  keep  behind 
'em,  but  don't  make  no  noise,  Bud.  You  f oiler  me." 

With  this  admonition  and  command,  the  old  man, 
picking  his  steps,  moved  along  the  ridge  until  he  came 
where  the  wooded  point  made  down  close  to  a  little 
swag,  and  descended  the  hill  among  the  trees,  increas 
ing  with  each  step  his  caution,  and  as  his  inexperi 
enced  companion  would  strike  some  dry  branch  giving 
forth  a  cracking  sound,  muffled  somewhat  by  its  cov 
ering  of  snow,  he  would  raise  his  hand  in  warning. 
Slowly,  and  making  as  little  noise  as  possible,  they 
had  gone  nearly  down  the  hill,  where,  getting  a  better 
point  of  view,  they  could  see,  behind  the  bushes,  a 
black  bear,  the  sun  shining  on  his  glossy  coat,  which, 
in  the  snow,  seemed,  by  contrast,  black  as  ink.  He 
was  standing  quietly,  his  side  partly  turned  to  them. 
They  were  screened  by  the  trunk  of  a  large  pine,  and 
not  over  fifty  yards  from  the  game  was  a  similar 
friendly  tree. 

"  We'll  go  to  yon  tree  as  sly  as  we  kin,  and  ye  take 
the  shot,  Bud.  Aim  at  his  heart  and  don't  be  nar- 
vous.  Ye'll  have  a  good  shot.  'Tain't  thirty  rods. 
If  ye  miss,  I'll  be  ready  for  him,  but  ye'll  get  him." 

Stepping  with  the  greatest  caution,  Zeb  leading, 
they  at  last  reached  the  tree.  It  seemed  half  an  hour 
to  Bud,  whose  nerves  were  all  strung  to  a  high  pitch. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  43 

"  Rest  yer  gun,"  whispers  Zeb,  "  'gainst  the  trunk, 
take  a  good  aim,  and,  as  soon  as  ye  kin,  give  him  an 
other.  I'll  be  ready  if  ye  miss.  Keep  cool  and  get  a 
good  bead  on  him ;  all  the  time  ye  want. ' ' 

Evidently  the  bear  was  unconscious  of  his  enemies. 
Bud  took  plenty  of  time,  a  projection  of  the  bark  on 
the  trunk  afforded  him  a  fair  rest  for  his  gun.  When 
he  had  the  aim  and  his  hand  was  steady,  he  fired. 

The  start  given  him  by  the  unexpected  noise  and 
the  blow  of  the  bullet  staggered  the  bear  for  an  instant, 
and,  before  he  could  turn  to  run,  Bud  put  in  another 
shot. 

"  Ye've  got  him,  Bud;  see  the  blood;  ye've  hit  the 
heart,"  said  Zeb,  as  he  lowered  his  Winchester,  which 
he  had  kept  in  readiness  to  give  the  death  shot  should 
Bud  have  missed  or  failed  to  give  a  mortal  wound. 
With  the  caution  of  experience,  he  restrained  Bud, 
who  would  rush  impetuously  after  the  bear.  "  Go 
slow,  Bud;  go  slow,  there  ain't  no  hurry,"  he  said, 
and  with  his  gun  ready  for  the  wounded  animal,  should 
he  turn,  he  went  down  the  hill.  The  blood  on  the 
snow  showed  the  track.  Something  between  a  squeal 
and  a  grunt  came  from  the  next  clump  of  bushes  as 
they  neared  it.  "  That's  the  last  of  him,"  said  Zeb, 
as  parting  the  willows  they  saw  the  beast  dying,  and 
as  they  looked  he  was  dead. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  Zeb?  How  is  that 
for  my  first  shot  at  a  bear  ?  Right  where  I  held  for 
him;  dead  in  the  heart;  and  there's  the  other,  a  little 
too  high,"  said  Bud,  as  he  found  the  holes  which  his 
bullets  had  made. 

"Ye  did  well,  Bud;  ye  did  well.  Ye'll  make  a 
hunter.  I  was  a- watching  ye.  Ye  was  shaking  when 


44  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

ye  lifted  yer  gun,  but  when  ye  got  the  sight  ye  was 
steady  as  a  rock.  Ye'll  make  a  man,  Bud,  ye  will. 
When  a  man  goes  to  shoot  at  game,  or  goes  into  a 
fight  or  anything  that  takes  nerve,  specially  when  it's 
all  new  to  him,  and  he's  kind  of  shaky,  and  when  he 
puts  in  his  shot,  or  when  the  fight  comes,  he's  quiet 
and  steady;  he's  a  man.  When  he  goes  in  cool  and 
gets  to  shaking  when  the  p'int  comes,  he  ain't  no  use 
only  to  sit  'round  a  bar-room  stove  in  winter,  and 
hunt  and  fight  with  his  tongue.  I  feel  I  know  ye 
better  now,  Bud.  I  had  an  idee  ye  was  a  man  before. " 

Praise  like  this  from  old  Zeb,  and  his  first  bear, 
made  Bud  step  on  air.  He  stroked  the  thick  long  fur ; 
he  lifted  a  big  paw  with  its  pad  and  long  claws,  some 
of  them  worn  from  the  tearing  asunder  of  rotten  logs 
in  search  of  ants,  always  a  toothsome  delicacy  to  a 
bear's  palate.  He  admired  his  size,  his  prime  coat ;  it 
was  his  bear  and  it  was  his  first  one. 

All  of  us  who  love  the  noble  sport  have  killed  our 
first  bear,  and  no  matter  how  sorry  a  specimen  of  its 
kind  it  may  have  been,  a  certain  halo  always  clings 
around  that  bear.  Subsequent  bears  may  have  been 
giants  of  the  family,  and  may  have  tried  our  nerve  and 
met  their  deaths  by  shots  we  will  remember  and  feel 
proud  of  having  made  so  long  as  we  live ;  yet  the  first 
bear  marks  a  red-letter  day  in  the  calendar  of  our 
lives.  As  Bud  was  a  novice,  the  skinning  of  the  bear 
fell  to  Zeb,  who  did  it  with  a  quickness  and  skill  that 
showed  his  familiarity  with  the  process;  for  there  is 
one  right  way  to  skin  a  bear,  and  as  many  wrong  ones 
as  there  have  been,  are,  or  ever  will  be  novices  to  try 
it.  The  skin  was  left  on  a  projecting  limb  of  a  black 
pine,  and  the  hunt  resumed. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  45 

"What  do  you  think  that  bear  would  weigh, 
Zeb?" 

"May  be  three  hundred  or  thereabout;  he  warn't 
very  big,  but  it's  a  fine  skin." 

' '  It  seems  so  to  me,  Zeb ;  but  it  is  a  pity  we  can't 
use  the  meat." 

"  That's  so,  Bud,  but  'less  it's  a  cub,  bear's  meat's 
no  good." 

"  Where  will  we  go  next,  Zeb  ?  " 

"Well,  I  was  a- thinking;  'twas  snowing  all  night, 
and  sence  the  sun  come  out  a  bear  would  naterally  be 
a-feeding  or  a-sunning  himself.  It's  'bout  time  they 
was  a-getting  dry,  and  we'd  better  make  for  some 
water.  There's  quite  a  crick  yonder,  couple  of  miles 
or  so  away ;  we'll  go  over  there  and  keep  on  the  hill 
side  up  the  crick,  and  it's  like  we'll  get  another." 

Half  an  hour  brought  them  to  where  they  could 
overlook  the  tumbling  waters  of  a  creek  as  it  rushed 
down  its  steep  bed. 

"  Wind's  changed  so  we  kin  f oiler  along  this  side," 
said  Zeb.  "It's  everything  to  be  right  with  the 
wind ;  when  it's  warm  or  kind  of  moderate,  bear  has  a 
keen  scent.  When  it's  freezing  cold,  seems  they're 
like  a  dog,  don't  smell  much." 

"  I  never  knew  that,  Zeb." 

"Well,  it's  so;  when  it's  cold,  scent  don't  lie;  but 
there's  another  thing  that's  so  too.  Most  everything, 
bears  'specially,  see  farther  and  they  hear  better  then ; 
'pears  like  it  was  sort  of  providential.  What  they  lose 
one  way,  they  make  up  the  other.  We'll  keep  the 
wind  and  we'll  go  still,  and  if  we  have  any  kind  of 
luck  we'll  see  one  likely." 

Taking  this  as  a  hint  to  stop  conversation,  Bud  fol- 


46  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

lowed  behind  in  silence.  A  half  hour  or  more  went 
by,  the  ascent  and  the  increasing  depth  of  the  snow,  as 
they  got  farther  into  the  mountains,  making  progress 
slow  and  tiresome.  They  were  forced,  by  the  abrupt 
high  bank  of  a  little  canon,  through  which  the  waters 
of  the  stream  were  leaping  and  boiling,  as  in  great 
jumps  from  rock  to  rock  they  ran  in  their  channel,  to 
direct  their  steps  higher  up  the  hillside.  They  had 
just  reached  a  point  where  they  might  turn  down  and 
get  nearer  the  stream,  when  Zeb's  quick  ear  caught  a 
rustling  in  the  willows  fringing  the  water  below. 
With  uplifted  hand  he  enforced  special  caution. 

"I  hear  him,"  he  whispered;  "he's  gone  in  the 
bushes;  he's  come  down  along  the  bank  and  is  looking 
for  a  quiet  place  to  drink." 

"  May  be  it's  a  deer,"  suggested  Bud. 

"  No,  it  ain't  no  deer;  it's  a  bear,  and  a  big  one,  too. 
Hear  how  he  breaks  down  the  dry  willows  as  he 
moves;  takes  heft  to  do  that.  I'll  go  down  and  cross 
the  crick  below.  If  he  comes  out  and  is  moving  away, 
give  him  a  shot,  but  don't  ye  stir  otherwise  till  ye 
hear  my  shot ;  then  work  down  and  shoot  if  ye  see 
him,  but  don't  go  too  nigh,  and  keep  ready  with  yer 
gun. ' ' 

Zeb  retraced  his  steps,  and  in  a  minute  all  sight 
and  sound  of  him  was  lost.  Alert  to  obey  his  instruc 
tions,  Bud  watched  the  bushes  for  the  coming  out  of 
the  bear.  He  could  tell  from  the  cracking  of  the  dead 
willows  and  the  swishing  about  of  the  green  ones  that 
he  was  still  there,  but  he  made  no  move  to  come  out. 

The  time  seemed  long  since  Zeb  had  left  him,  and 
strain  his  ears  as  he  would,  he  could  hear  no  noise 
that  might  by  any  stretch  of  fancy  have  come  from 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  47 

him.  Once  or  twice  he  raised  his  rifle  as  the  animal 
in  his  moving  seemed  likely  to  emerge  from  the 
clump  of  bushes;  once  he  fancied  that  through  the 
leafless  screen  he  could  see  some  gray  mass.  With 
his  faculties  strained  to  high  tension,  feeling  that  now 
he  had  a  reputation  to  sustain,  for  the  morning's 
affair  had,  perhaps,  given  him  a  certain  conceit  of 
what  was  to  be  expected  of  him,  and  anxious  to  stand 
still  better  with  his  friend,  he  experienced  the  sensa 
tion  of  troops  only  slightly  inured  to  the  experiences 
of  war,  who  stand  hour  after  hour  in  line,  waiting  to 
be  sent  into  action,  the  distant  sounds  of  conflict  seem 
ing  to  be  calls  for  orders  that  do  not  come.  It's 
wearing,  waiting  at  such  times,  and  it  tries  nerves  new 
to  such  experiences,  and  minutes  seem  tens  and  scores. 
But,  as  in  the  customary  accounts  of  such  matters,  "  a 
gun  opened  to  the  left." 

The  sharp  crack  of  Zeb's  rifle  was  heard,  and  out  of 
the  willows  came  a  gray  monster.  The  first  surprise 
had  startled  him  into  turning,  but,  like  many  a  one 
before,  man  or  beast,  the  impetus  of  flight  was  over 
come  by  the  idea  of  fight,  and,  rearing  up  on  his  giant 
haunches  his  massive  body,  with  his  fore  legs  clawing 
the  air,  the  bear  emitted  growls  deep  and  angry.  Bud 
fired  without  touching  him — not  so  strange  a  thing — 
for  to  a  new  hand  to  hit  an  object  below  is  much  a 
matter  of  chance,  the  tendency  to  lift  the  end  of  the 
barrel  as  he  pulls  the  trigger  is  so  natural.  With  the 
rashness  of  excitement,  Bud  rushed  down  the  hill. 

"  Keep  back,  keep  back,"  yelled  Zeb,  and  he  checked 
himself  hardly  ten  rods  from  the  infuriated  animal, 
who,  seeing  his  foe,  made  a  mad  rush  for  him.  Bud 
pulled  trigger  again,  but  in  his  excitement  he  had 


48  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

forgotten  to  throw  the  lever  and  renew  his  cartridge, 
and  only  a  dull  click  came  as  the  hammer  fell. 

"Run  down  hill,"  yelled  Zeb,  and  as  the  flying 
Bud  tore  past,  the  old  fellow  came  into  the  open  spot 
near  the  willows,  and  towards  his  other  enemy 
charged  the  furious  brute.  Zeb  dropped  on  one  knee ; 
he  got  up  again,  and  rigid  as  marble  he  stood  to 
meet  the  onset,  man  and  gun  as  immovable  as  the 
rocks  above  them.  With  growls  that  pierced  the  air 
with  their  shrillness,  and  had  the  roll  of  thunder  in 
them,  swinging  his  powerful  fore  legs,  every  claw 
standing  out  ready  to  tear  when  the  arm  struck,  came 
the  great  gray  beast,  wild  with  anger.  He  was  almost 
at  the  end  of  the  gun-barrel,  and  he  lowered  his  head 
as  he  had  his  enemy  within  his  fearful  grasp.  Sharp 
rung  out  the  true  old  rifle,  and  before  it  fell  to  the 
ground,  his  knife  out,  Zeb  jumped  one  side  and  drove 
it  in  the  monster's  body,  whose  clutching  claws,  as  he 
passed,  tore  the  shirt  from  the  old  man's  shoulder  and 
drew  blood. 

Borne  by  his  impetuous  rush,  the  bear  was  impelled 
onward;  he  stumbled,  he  fell,  with  a  bullet  through 
eye  into  brain,  and  the  knife  through  his  heart. 

All  happened  so  quickly  that  perhaps  not  a  minute 
had  elapsed  between  Zeb's  quick  call  to  Bud  and  the 
death  of  the  bear. 

Actuated  by  the  peremptory  command  of  the  old 
man,  he  had  torn  down  hill  towards  the  creek,  but  as 
he  was  not  one  to  leave  a  friend  at  such  a  time,  when 
he  realized  what  he  was  doing  he  stopped,  and  put  a 
new  cartridge  in  place,  but  too  late  to  get  in  a  shot 
before  the  bear  was  on  his  friend.  The  steady  hold 
ing  of  his  fire,  the  death  shot,  and  Zeb's  jump  to  the 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  49 

side  and  blow  with  a  knife  he  saw,  without  being 
able  to  render  any  assistance.  The  torn  shirt  and 
lacerated  shoulder  with  the  blood  trickling  down  it, 
gave  him  alarm,  and  Bud  rushed  up. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Zeb  ?    Are  you  hurt  ?  " 

"'Pears  like  I  am,"  said  Zeb.  "I  feel  so~good, 
though,  it  don't  count.  I  wouldn't  ha'  missed  this  for 
nothing.  I  bet  I  didn't  touch  the  bone  when  I  Avent 
through  his  eye,  but  for  fear  I  had  been  onsteady,  I 
thought  I'd  get  his  heart;  ye  can't  take  no  chances 
with  such  a  cuss  as  that." 

"  But  you're  hurt;  see  the  blood." 

"The  shirt's  worse  hurt  than  I  am.  His  claws 
kinder  raked  me,  but  that  ain't  nothing.  Them  cuts 
is  no  depth,"  and  taking  some  snow,  he  wiped  the 
blood  away,  and  Bud  bound  the  torn  shirt-sleeve 
about  the  arm  as  well  as  he  could.  "  I  hain't  felt  so 
good,  Bud,  not  for  three  years.  That  shot  did  me 
a  power  of  good.  I  feel  like  I  was  young.  I  didn't 
know  my  hand  and  nerve  was  so  steady.  It  ain't 
nothing  for  a  young  man,  but  when  a  man  gets  round 
sixty  he  has  a  conceit  of  such  a  shot,  and  it  does  him 
good  all  through.  I  feel  like  I've  been  a-hunting  and 
made  a  good  hunt,  and  a  man  can't  feel  more  peart 
than  to  feel  that." 

They  went  up  to  the  dead  bear,  a  great  silver-tip. 

"  I  didn't  know  a  bear  could  be  so  big,"  said  Bud. 

"  "Well,  he  is  a  big  one;  the  biggest  I  ever  see  out 
of  Calif orny;  he'll  weigh  nine  hundred  or  more." 

And  he  was  a  monster;  his  great  bulk,  stretched  on 

the  snow,  covered  with  long  silky  fur,  brown  near  the 

skin,  the  end  of  each  hair  tipped  with  gray,  loomed 

up  like  the  carcase  of  an  ox.     As  Zeb  said,  his  bullet 

4 


50  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

had  gone  through  the  flesh  of  his  eye  without  touching 
the  bone  of  the  skull. 

"What  a  fight  he  made!  And,  Zeb,  why  did  you 
hold  your  shot  so  long?  He  was  nearly  on  you;  I 
thought  you  were  going  to  be  killed.  What  an  old 
hero  you  are,  anyway !  You  were  like  an  iron  man,  so 
steady." 

"  Well,  Bud,  if  I  hadn't  been  steady  then,  I'd  have 
been  pretty  stiff  by  this  time.  'Twas  the  only  chance 
to  get  that  ball  in  his  eye-socket,  and  to  knife  his  heart 
if  I  missed.  That  was  a  dang  spry  jump,  warn't  it, 
Bud  ?  I'll  think  of  that  long  as  I  live.  That's  hunt- 
ing ;  and  I  got  off  mighty  lucky.  But  we  must  skin 
him  now  while  he's  warm." 

It  was  no  easy  job,  for  their  united  strength  could 
not  turn  the  monster  over,  and  it  was  only  by  using 
a  long  stick  as  a  lever  that  they  did  turn  him;  but  at 
last  the  skin  was  off  and  his  great  pads  and  mighty 
claws  were  preserved  on  it.  Bud  insisted  on  carrying 
the  skin,  no  little  weight  it  was,  and  as  dark  was  fast 
coming  on,  they  started  back,  picking  up  the  other 
skin  on  their  way.  These  skins,  subsequently  tanned 
with  the  hair  on,  made  a  great  addition  to  the  furni 
ture  of  the  cabin,  ornamenting  the  chairs  by  day,  and, 
if  there  was  need  for  them,  warm  coverings  for  the 
beds. 

Zeb's  wounds  proved  little  more  than  deep  scratches, 
and  soon  healed;  but  the  torn  shirt,  manage  it  as  he 
might,  he  could  not  mend  to  his  satisfaction,  and,  it 
having  been  a  favorite  shirt,  he,  in  most  picturesque 
manner,  cursed  the  dead  bear  and  all  his  tribe  as,  pa 
tiently  endeavoring  to  unite  the  tattered  shreds  into 
some  serviceable  shape,  he  plied  his  needle. 


CHAPTER  V 

ALTERNATE  snow  squalls  and  clear  weather,  increas 
ing  frost  at  night,  and  a  growing  chilliness  when  the 
sun  was  obscured  by  passing  clouds,  indicated  the  near 
coming  of  winter. 

Continued  labor  began  to  give  the  cut  they  were 
running  such  good  promise  of  reaching  its  contem 
plated  end  that  our  friends  were  encouraged  to  expect, 
within  two  or  three  months,  should  only  ordinary 
storms  impede,  having  it  under  the  shaft.  That  it 
would  be  deep  enough  when  it  reached  that  point,  or 
before,  to  strike  the  bed-rock  they  did  not  doubt.  I 
say  they,  but  it  would  be  better  to  say  Zeb  did  not 
doubt ;  for  the  younger  man  having  no  experience  of 
his  own  to  form  an  opinion,  made  Zeb's  his.  Should 
they  strike  bed-rock,  they  would  hew  out  the  sluice- 
boxes  to  carry  off  the  gravel,  and  make  the  riffles  to 
catch  the  gold,  as,  in  the  passage  of  the  gravel  through 
the  boxes,  the  little  grains,  from  their  greater  weight, 
would  fall  among  them.  They  would  bring  in  the 
water  along  the  convenient  hillside  by  means  of  a 
ditch,  which,  as  it  would  be  of  no  great  length,  they 
could  quickly  dig  in  the  early  spring.  Should  the  cut 
not  be  low  enough  when  it  reached  the  shaft,  they 
would  drive  it  still  farther  if  they  could;  but  this 
view  of  the  matter  was  not  prominent  in  their  minds, 
for  they  had  quite  settled  on  it  that  before,  or  when, 


52  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

the  cut  came  under  the  shaft,  it  would  be  on  bed-rock. 
All  the  hours  of  light  were  spent  in  hard  work  at  the 
excavation. 

In  the  evenings  they  worked  on,  and  at  last  finished, 
the  wheelbarrow.  Quite  an  ingenious  creation  it 
was,  considering  the  tools  employed,  only  axe  and 
knife,  and  that  wooden  pins  had  to  answer  in  place 
of  nails  and  screws,  and  that  the  journal  boxes  in 
which  the  shaft  of  the  wheel  ran  were  pieces  of  bone 
from  the  leg  of  an  elk ;  true,  the  wheel  was  somewhat 
wobbly,  and  it  did  not  hang  as  they  wished,  and  it 
was  cumbrous  and  heavy;  but,  on  the  whole,  they 
were  much  pleased  with  it.  Bud,  especially ;  for  his 
deftness  with  axe  and  knife  was  quite  remarkable; 
and  while  Zeb  might  be  said  to  be  the  designer,  he 
was  the  builder.  His  ingenuity  and  aptness  also 
showed  itself  in  various  little  improvements  in  the 
cabin  and  its  furniture — a  washboard  for  their  clothes ; 
shelves,  and  many  other  things. 

Zeb  was  no  idler,  and  while  Bud  was  engaged  with 
axe  and  knife,  he  was  pulling  and  kneading  buckskin 
in  the  process  of  tanning,  or  cooking,  or  washing 
their  woollen  clothes,  or  making  mittens  out  of  buck 
skin  already  tanned.  And  so,  by  the  light  of  the  big 
fire  in  the  fireplace,  they  kept  hands  and  minds  busy. 

A  long  life,  and  much  of  it  passed  among  stirring 
scenes,  and  all  of  it  in  a  manner  new  and  strange  to 
his  companion,  was  bit  by  bit  unfolded,  as  Bud  ingen 
iously  drew  the  old  man  out,  as  from  time  to  time  he 
did,  when  supper  was  over  and  they  had  settled  down 
to  their  evening  occupations. 

"While  it  took  little  or  no  urging  to  get  Zeb  to  talk 
— for,  as  he  was  wont  to  say,  "  I  ain't  one  of  them  still 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  53 

fellers  who  don't  say  nothing,  always  a- thinking  or 
looking  like  they  was  a-thinking;  I've  got  to  open 
my  head  " — he  was  singularly  uncommunicative  about 
his  personal  actions.  He  would  talk  by  the  hour  of. 
his  old  partner  Yank,  whose  memory  he  tenderly 
cherished,  and  whose  sayings  and  doings  were  his 
frequent  theme. 

He  had  "gone  to  Calif orny  in  '49,"  his  wander 
ings  had  extended  to  every  Western  State  and  Terri 
tory.  He  had  prospected  in  British  Columbia  and 
in  Northern  Mexico,  had  served  in  the  war,  and  cuts 
and  bullet  scars  on  face  and  body  marked  him  as  one 
who  had  borne  a  part  in  making  the  history  of  his 
time.  It  needed  but  little  imagination  to  connect  him 
with  what  must  have  fallen  to  an  adventurous  pioneer 
in  the  great  wilds,  and  less  acquaintance  with  him  to 
know  that  in  whatever  life  he  had  moved  he  had  acted 
his  part  like  a  man. 

A  rough  idea  of  his  life,  it  was  true,  had  come  to 
Bud  from  things  the  old  man  would  drop. 

"When  I  was  in  Californy  in  '49  or  '50  or  '51." 
"  I  had  a  claim  on  the  Fraser."  "  'Twas  in  Xevady 
in  '59."  "  I  see  a  heap  o'  curous  things  down  among 
the  Greasers."  "  Montany  is  dang  cold."  "  I  never 
see  nothing  in  Wyoming  or  Dacoty. "  "Colorado's 
all  quartz. "  And  a  chance  remark  now  and  then  about 
the  war  had  come  from  him,  and  out  of  those  dis 
jointed  remarks  Bud  had  made  a  kind  of  chart  of 
Zeb's  life;  but  he  longed  to  have  the  log-book  of  that 
life's  voyage  through  the  seas  of  peril  and  adventure 
it  must  have  been  sailed.  But,  like  men  of  his  kind, 
some  chance  allusion  to  this  or  that  in  which  he  had 
been  an  actor  was  all  that  passed  his  lips. 


54  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

Perhaps  no  more  uncommunicative  class  of  men 
exist  than  the  pioneers  of  the  extreme  West.  One  has 
to  know  them  and  know  them  well  to  draw  from  them 
statements  of  their  personal  experiences.  In  addition 
to  a  certain  stoicism  acquired  either  by  contact  with 
that  greatest  of  modern  stoics — the  American  Indian 
— or  perhaps  from  somewhat  like  causes  producing  a 
similar  result,  they  are  of  all  men  the  most  retiring, 
the  least  given  to  telling  what  they  have  personally 
endured  or  suffered  or  had  part  in.  Their  portraits, 
from  those  tintypes  in  the  dime  novels  to  the  full 
cabinet  size  of  more  pretentious  literary  productions, 
are  for  the  most  part  caricatures. 

Can  some  penny-a-liner,  in  his  lodgings,  over  toast 
and  tea,  or  a  pint  of  beer,  with  only  his  imagination  to 
draw  from,  depict  these  men  whom  he  has  never  even 
seen?  Can  some  story-teller  of  the  day,  however 
graphic  his  pen,  or  fervid  his  fancy,  or  exhaustive  his 
analysis  of  character,  spend  a  few  months,  or  a  few 
years  for  that  matter,  in  frontier  towns  or  army  posts, 
making  excursions  here  and  there  into  the  wilderness, 
aiming  to  get  in  touch  with  these  men  whom  he  may 
desire  to  put  in  evidence  for  those  of  to-day  and  those 
of  after-time  to  see  and  to  understand  how  the  winning 
of  a  wilderness  to  civilization  affected  the  actors  in  the 
work,  without  living  with  them,  sharing  their  toils, 
and  making  common  interest  with  them  in  the  affairs 
of  their  lives  ?  He  cannot,  should  he  chance  to  meet 
the  Simon-pure  article  and  recognize  him  as  such; 
while  the  chances  of  his  taking  false  metal  for  good, 
and  from  its  tawdry  and  pinchbeck  character  getting 
his  ideas  of  color  and  texture  and  weight,  are  a  thou 
sand  to  one. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  55 

"What  Burns  did  for  the  Scotch  peasant,  he  could 
do  because,  being  one  of  them,  living  their  life,  his 
happy  touch  of  genius  not  only  could  describe  them  as 
they  seemed  to  themselves  to  be,  but  could,  from  sim 
ilar  life  and  like  experiences,  invest  them  with  some 
thing  that  was  in  them,  the  capacity  to  bring  some 
thing  out  of  themselves,  that  reserve  form  or  character 
of  individualism  which  lends  to  written  description 
the  same  fidelity  and  charm  that  the  masters  of  old 
have  with  their  brushes  given  to  canvas. 

A  photograph  is  one  thing;  art  makes  quite  another 
of  the  same  subject. 

The  close  intimacy  which  had  of  necessity  sprung 
up  between  the  two,  gave  Bud  the  desire  of  knowing 
more  of  what  Zeb  had  done  in  the  kind  of  life  that 
to  himself  was  so  new ;  the  more  that,  notwithstand 
ing  his  apparent  frankness,  there  was  a  reserve  about 
the  old  man  that  had  in  it  a  savor  of  mystery ;  and 
with  all  the  adroit  turnings  of  the  conversation  he 
could  manage,  reenforced  by  some  knowledge  he  had 
gained  of  his  peculiarities,  he  sought  to  draw  him  out, 
sometimes  with  a  temporary  success,  that  led  him  to 
expect  more  again,  and  sometimes  with  no  success  at 
all.  Still,  many  a  tale  of  the  hunt  or  of  Indian  skir 
mish  or  early  days  in  California,  strange  happenings 
in  the  wilderness  or  Mexico,  fell  from  Zeb's  lips  in 
those  evenings.  Under  the  excitement  of  narration, 
bits  of  his  part  in  those  happenings  would  uncon 
sciously  escape  him,  so  modestly  told,  however,  that 
only  knowing  the  man,  as  Bud  began  to  do,  could  he 
see  the  brave  actor  he  had  been  in  them  all. 

An  occasional  hunt  by  one  or  the  other  had,  from 
time  to  time,  added  to  their  stock  of  elk  and  venison 


56  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

and  filled  the  meat-house.  Gradually  the  clouds 
began  to  thicken,  and  to  Zeb's  experienced  eye,  the 
shutting  in  of  winter  seemed  close  at  hand. 

"We'll  have  to  take  the  hosses  down,"  he  said; 
"  can't  put  it  off  much  longer. "  As  yet  old  Bally,  his 
barometer,  made  no  sign,  but  he  watched  him  daily 
for  indications. 

They  hastened  the  making  of  the  snowshoes  from 
the  long  pieces  of  wood  they  had  brought  into  the 
cabin  to  dry,  Zeb  hewing  the  slabs  down  until  they 
were  rough  boards  five  inches  wide,  a  little  over  an 
inch  thick,  and  nine  feet  long.  "  There's  so  much 
timber  here,"  he  said,  "a  short  shoe  will  be  better 
than  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  ones,  though  they  ain't 
so  good  Avhere  the  ground  favors. ' ' 

Under  his  direction  Bud  finished  them  down,  mainly 
with  the  knife,  leaving  them  an  inch  thick  at  the  middle 
and  a  little  back  of  it,  perhaps  for  a  foot  and  a  half, 
but  paring  the  wood  away  from  them  to  either  end 
until  it  was  hardly  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick.  What 
was  to  be  the  bottom  was  made  as  smooth  as  possible, 
and  the  front  of  each  shoe  was  cut  to  a  rounding  point. 
The  finishing  touches  old  Zeb  put  on  himself,  from 
time  to  time,  holding  them  up  on  one  hand  to  get  the 
proper  balance.  The  pointed  ends  were  then  boiled 
or  steamed,  so  that  they  might  be  curled  up  like 
sleigh-runners,  and  as  only  one  could  be  heated  at  a 
time,  the  capacity  of  the  lard  can  not  being  equal  to 
more,  it  took  some  little  time  to  heat  them,  and  after 
wards  to  bend  them  to  the  precise  curve,  in  which  con 
strained  position  they  were  left  to  dry  until  morning, 
and  then  tied  down  with  fishlines  to  retain  their 
shape. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  57 

An  old  pair  of  leather  boot-legs  were  fished  out  from 
Zeb's  "  alfallcases  "  and  cut  into  strips,  which,  being 
pinned  to  the  sides  of  each  shoe  where  the  foot  would 
come,  made  pockets  for  them.  A  little  cross-piece 
was  pinned  far  enough  to  catch  the  heel  and  help  retain 
the  foot  in  place;  an  extra  smoothing  was  given  to 
the  bottom,  and  the  shoes  pronounced  perfect. 

Bud,  with  interest,  watched  their  finishing,  and,  as 
he  lifted  one  in  his  hands,  expressed  his  fears  that  the 
shoes  would  prove  too  heavy. 

"Why,  Zeb,"  he  said,  "a  man  can't  lift  these 
things  as  they  are,  or  with  snow  on  them,  and  get 
along  on  them  for  half  a  mile." 

"  Ye  don't  lift  'em,  Bud;  ye  slide  them  'long  like 
skates;  we'll  try  'em  the  first  snow;  ye  must  get  a 
little  savvy  of  'em,  for  by  the  time  we  take  out  the 
bosses,  or  when  we  come  back  after  leaving  them, 
chances  are  we'll  want  'em." 

The  next  few  days  enough  snow  fell  for  practice, 
and  under  Zeb's  tuition  Bud  acquired  the  sliding 
motion  and  began  to  think  it  would  be  easy  to  walk 
all  day  with  them,  and  so  said  to  his  friend. 

"  "Tain't  so  easy  as  ye  think,"  was  the  reply. 
"  When  the  snow  lies  deep  and  its  new  snow,  then  one 
end  will  go  up  and  the  other  will  go  down,  and  both 
of  'em  want  to  go  differnt  ways,  and  they'll  git 
covered  with  snow,  and  it  will  stick  to  the  bottoms, 
and  each  one  on  'em  will  weigh  fifty  pounds,  and  ye'll 
be  that  worn  out  and  tired  ye'll  wish  ye  were  dead; 
for  days  afterwards  yer  legs  and  yer  back  will  ache, 
and  ye'll  be  that  stiff  ye  won't  be  no  good;  ye'll  get 
uster  'em,  though,  and  ye'll  do  right  smart  now. 

"  When  we  get  back  from  taking  the  bosses  down, 


58  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

if  the  snow  falls,  as  it's  likely,  I  won't  bring  it  up  to 
ye  that  ye  said  'twould  be  easy  to  snowshoe  all 
day;  'twould  be  like  Miss  Pope,  my  old  aunt,  who'd 
always  be  a-throwing  up  to  ye  something  ye  had 
said,  and  doing  it  at  some  such  time  as  that'll  be. 

"  How  cussed  mad  old  man  Pope  uster  get.  He'd 
swear  a  blue  streak,  and  he  a  deacon  in  the  Church,  and 
then  he'd  get  right  down  and  pray,  a-stopping  of  his 
ears  with  his  fingers;  but  'twas  nuts  for  us  boys,  yer 
bet  yer. ' ' 

Over  a  foot  of  snow  had  fallen,  and  Bally  began  to 
dislike  the  looks  of  the  weather.  His  instinct  told 
him  it  was  time  to  get  into  winter  quarters,  and  one 
morning,  in  a  driving  snow-storm,  they  started  down 
the  river  with  the  horses.  Their  provisions  for  the 
trip — grub,  more  correctly  speaking  in  the  vernacular 
of  the  country — their  guns,  a  blanket  apiece,  together 
with  the  two  pairs  of  snowshoes,  they  could  put  on  a 
pack-saddle  on  one  of  the  animals,  and  so  get  them 
down  easily,  but  evidently  they  would  be  something 
of  a  weight  coming  back;  they  would  cache  the  pack- 
saddle  where  they  left  the  horses,  but  their  riding- 
saddles  they  did  not  dare  to  trust  out  so  long,  exposed 
to  the  winter  and  to  the  gnawing  of  the  leather  by 
any  hungry  animals  who  might  take  a  fancy  to  them, 
and  they  could  ride  bare-back  if  they  wished,  and  the 
way  allowed. 

"  I  wish  we'd  started  yesterday,"  said  Zeb;  "  there's 
that  canon  to  go  down;  we'll  have  to  climb  up  pretty 
high  to  get  along  at  all,  and  the  snow's  deeper  than  I 
wish  it  was,  and  she's  a-coming  faster  and  faster." 

They  soon  found  the  way  was  more  difficult  than 
they  had  looked  for,  for  the  canon  through  which 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  59 

the  Salmon  penetrates  a  country  almost  impassable 
in  summer,  is  itself  impossible  of  passage ;  and  only  by 
keeping  high  up  on  the  craggy  mountain  sides  can, 
even  in  the  season  most  favorable,  the  descent  of  the 
river  be  made. 

The  snow,  which  along  the  stream  was  not  over  a 
foot  and  a  half,  grew  deeper  with  every  foot  of  alti 
tude.  To  get  to  the  winter  range  they  had  selected 
for  the  horses  (a  somewhat  indefinite  and  uncertain 
range  it  was,  for  they  had  never  seen  it,  and  knew 
absolutely  nothing  about  it,  but  Zeb's  acquaintance 
with  a  mountain  country  made  it  certain  to  him  that 
a  low  country  of  plain  and  rolling  hill,  where  the 
snowfall  would  be  light  and  the  grass  good,  lay  down 
the  river  within  forty  miles  or  so,  and  so  they  spoke 
of  it  as  something  that  was)  involved  getting  through 
or  over  the  rim  of  mountains  that  enclosed  the  basin. 

The  impassable  canon  required  them  to  keep  high 
up  the  mountain  side,  where  the  snow  was  heaviest, 
and  the  very  ragged  and  broken  character  of  the 
ground  necessitated  winding  up  and  down  to  avoid 
obstacles  of  craggy  rocks  or  dense  timber  or  sharp 
declivities. 

Sometimes  they  could  ride  a  bit,  only  perhaps  to 
fairly  get  on  their  horses  when  the  impediments  of 
snow,  timber,  or  rock  forced  them  to  get  off  and  exert 
all  their  strength  to  get  themselves  and  the  horses 
along. 

They  floundered  on,  often  waist  deep  in  snow,  but 
made  little  progress  in  the  direction  they  must  go, 
owing  to  the  zigzag  course  they  had  to  take  and  the 
obstacles  they  encountered.  Night  came  on,  and  they 
had  not  reached  the  divide  in  the  pass.  The  fast  fall- 


60  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

ing  snow  made  the  way  most  difficult,  and  by  morn 
ing  it  might  be  impassable. 

Though  horses  and  men  were  much  fatigued,  Zeb 
decided  that  they  must  press  on,  the  only  hope  for 
the  animals  being  to  get  them  the  other  side  of  the 
divide  as  soon  as  possible.  They  made  coffee,  light 
ing  a  fire  with  difficulty,  and  while  this  was  going  on 
and  the  coffee  was  being  drunk,  the  horses  had  a  rest. 

The  storm  was  increasing,  and  there  were  still  sev 
eral  miles  to  go  before  the  divide  could  be  reached. 
The  river  was  below  them,  there  was  no  doubt  of  their 
being  able  to  keep  their  course ;  they  had  only  to  keep 
the  hillside  as  they  best  could,  and  go  as  nearly  in  the 
course  of  the  river  as  they  might. 

The  pack  was  placed  on  a  fresh  horse,  and  all  ranged 
in  single  file,  old  Bally  leading,  he  being  the  steadiest 
to  break  trail  after  Zeb,  who  went  ahead ;  Bud  bring 
ing  up  the  rear,  they  started  again. 

To  recount  the  struggles  and  toil  of  that  weary  walk 
would  convey  to  the  ordinary  reader  little  idea  of  what 
they  really  were.  A  horse  would  get  down,  and,  ex 
hausted  by  his  plungings,  lie  where  he  fell;  he  would 
have  to  be  lifted  on  his  feet,  and  the  snow  trampled 
down  before  him.  One  would  stray  down  hill  and 
with  infinite  labor  in  pushing  and  hauling,  be  brought 
back  into  line.  Strength  of  body  in  both  men  and 
animals  became  quite  exhausted,  and  only  that  power 
above  physical  strength,  the  power  of  will,  kept  them 
moving,  the  men  urging  on  the  weary  animals  and 
trampling  the  snow  before  them.  Old  Bally,  who, 
from  long  companionship  with  his  master,  had  im 
bibed  something  of  his  dogged  perseverance  and  deter 
mination,  kept  his  place  behind  Zeb,  until,  from  sheer 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  61 

fatigue,  the  old  fellow  would  fall  on  his  knees ;  then  the 
last  horse  in  the  line  would  be  forced  into  his  place 
and  he  put  in  the  rear;  the  others,  in  their  passage 
through  the  snow,  making  it  easier  going  for  him. 
Bud  would  take  Zeb's  place  for  a  time,  but,  though  a 
strong  young  man,  he  had  not  the  seasoned  sinews  of 
the  elder,  and  would  soon  become  worn  out,  and  Zeb 
would  go  to  the  front  again.  The  instincts  of  the 
horses  told  them  that  sure  death  was  behind  them  and 
a  possibility  ahead,  and  it  was  pitiable  to  see  them 
stagger  a  few  steps,  stop,  and  then  forge  on  again. 

The  steam,  rising  from  the  animals  and  the  cloth 
ing  of  the  men,  caused  by  their  violent  exertion  and 
the  melting  on  them  of  the  snow,  now  falling  faster 
than  ever,  made  them  as  wet  as  if  they  had  been  in  the 
river  below,  and  hung  over  them  in  the  heavy  air  like 
a  cloud,  which  in  the  dim  light  gave  a  weird  appear 
ance  to  the  little  cavalcade,  increased  by  the  silence, 
for  no  word  was  spoken  and  only  the  soft  rustle  of 
the  snow  as  they  ploughed  their  weary  way  through 
it,  and  an  occasional  snort  from  a  horse,  dispelled  the 
illusion  that  this  was  some  ghostly  procession  of  storm 
spirits  who,  surrounded  by  the  slightly  luminous 
cloud,  from  time  immemorial  the  accepted  atmosphere 
of  beings  of  the  other  world,  were  on  their  nightly 
travels. 

I  say  no  word  was  spoken,  and  none  had  been  for 
some  time.  The  horses,  as  they  fell,  were  pushed  on 
their  feet  again;  the  men  took  each  other's  place  in 
the  lead  and  fell  behind  again,  and  both  would  crawl 
back  on  hands  and  knees  to  bring  up  the  rear  when 
some  animal  had  to  be  urged  on. 

At  last  it  seemed  impossible  to  get  Bally  on.     He 


62  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

had  fallen  with  his  neck  and  head  extended,  and  his 
trembling  body  and  half -closed  eyes  showed  the  old 
horse  was  near  the  limit  of  his  power  to  move.  To 
him  had  fallen  the  heaviest  of  the  work  of  trail  maker, 
and  his  sturdy  frame,  overtasked  in  his  prodigious 
exertions,  refused  longer  to  continue  the  fight  for 
life  instinct  told  him  was  necessary. 

Zeb  took  his  head  in  his  arms  as  he  would  have  taken 
a  child.  "  Bally,  old  man,  Bally,"  he  said,  with  tears 
in  his  voice,  it  was  so  tender  and  so  soft,  "  ye  musn't 
leave  me,  now.  Steady,  old  cuss,  steady,  and  we'll 
make  it  yet.  Here,  Bud,  come  and  we'll  lift  him  up;  " 
but  Bud  had  sunk  down  in  the  snow.  Rousing  him  at 
last,  they  tried  to  get  the  old  horse  up,  who  with  his 
feeble  strength  tried  to  help  himself.  Zeb  arranged 
his  legs  under  him,  Bally  whined  plaintively  as  he  did 
it,  and  then  both  men  tried  to  raise  him,  but  to  no 
purpose.  Zeb  then  tramped  out  the  snow  under 
neath  him,  and  placing  his  feet  on  as  solid  bottom  as 
he  could  beneath  him,  and  getting  his  broad  back  well 
under  the  horse's  side,  with  great  effort  and  Bud's  less 
efficient  assistance,  raised  him  a  few  inches.  He 
sustained  the  weight  while  he  took  breath,  and  then 
throwing  all  his  great  strength  into  a  last  attempt,  his 
hands  on  his  knees,  his  long  limbs  rigid,  he  strained 
every  muscle  to  its  utmost,  and  with  Bud's  now  more 
vigorous  and  better  directed  aid,  the  old  horse  trying 
to  help  himself,  Bally  was  put  on  his  feet  again,  and 
with  many  strokings  and  endearing  words,  and  hold 
ing  him  up  to  steady  him,  was  so  far  encouraged  and 
strengthened  as  to  warrant  another  start.  But  other 
horses  were  down  and  refused  to  rise,  and  the  wearied 
men  struggled  with  them  until  all  were  up. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  63 

For  over  twenty-four  hours  not  a  breath  of  wind 
had  there  been  to  give  a  slant  to  the  snow,  that, 
straight  as  a  plumb-line,  had  been  incessantly  falling, 
but  now  came  a  little  puff,  and,  as  it  came,  Bally's  nos 
trils  dilated,  and  a  glad  snort,  answered  by  each  horse, 
told  in  plain  words  that  something  had  revived  their 
spirits. 

"  Thank  God,  the  divide  ain't  far;  Old  Bally  scents 
lower  ground,"  said  Zeb.  "We're  all  right  now; 
come  on,  old  cuss,"  as,  after  havirg  put  two  other 
horses  ahead  of  him,  Zeb  trampled  down  the  snow 
before  them.  They  made  another  start.  Every  step 
increased  the  spirits  of  the  horses;  hope,  that  potent 
stimulant,  made  their  sluggish  blood  flow  again; 
responsive  to  it  their  muscles  moved  and  they  ploughed 
through  the  snow,  now  deeper  than  ever,  with  marvel 
lous  increase  of  strength  and  courage. 

The  men  felt  the  impulse  and  pressed  on  with  re 
newed  vigor,  having  all  they  could  do  to  keep  out  of 
the  way  of  the  animals  who  plunged  after  them. 

At  last  they  reached  the  divide  and  stopped  for 
breath.  "  We  must  get  'em  down  the  hill  a  couple 
of  miles  or  so,  as  far  as  we  can, ' '  said  Zeb,  ' '  for 
we'll  all  be  dang'd  stiff  after  a  rest." 

Morning  was  just  breaking,  and  save  that  there  was 
a  little  wind,  the  storm  showed  no  change.  The  driv 
ing  snow  did  not  allow  of  their  seeing  a  hundred  feet 
ahead,  but  of  course  their  way  was  as  plain  as  ever; 
they  had  but  to  go  down  hill,  no  more  continued 
climbing,  and  with  every  foot  of  descent  the  snow 
would  be  getting  lighter. 

They  started,  and  now,  instead  of  having  to  labori 
ously  lift  the  dead  weight  of  their  bodies,  that  very 


64  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

weight  gave  impetus  to  their  descent,  and  plunging, 
ploughing,  and  tumbling  through  the  snow,  other 
muscles  than  those  they  had  so  long  and  tediously  em 
ployed  in  their  ascent  being  called  into  play,  they 
moved  with  comparative  comfort. 

Nevertheless,  by  the  time  they  reached  a  little  flat — 
a  small  swag  or  gulch  there  opening  out  as  it  joined 
a  large  creek  that  continued  on  its  way  to  the  river, 
and  some  three  miles  from  the  divide — their  strength 
failed,  and  horses  and  men  sank  down  exhausted. 

After  a  great  struggle,  trying  nerve  and  strength 
to  the  utmost,  when,  after  almost  despairing,  hope 
comes  and  gives  us  the  vigor  to  succeed,  like  any  other 
stimulant,  its  effect  is  temporary,  passing  away  when 
the  end  is  attained,  and  leaving  us  weaker  from  the 
expenditure  of  a  reserve  mental  force.  This  once 
gone,  we  are  not  only  at  the  end  of  our  rope,  so  to 
speak,  but,  in  the  further  extending  of  our  limit,  we 
have  increased  the  weariness  that  before  seemed  all 
human  nature  could  endure. 

To  men  and  horses  had  now  come  this  reaction.  The 
horses  were  down,  Bud  lay  stretched  in  the  snow 
asleep,  and  even  the  iron,  or,  rather,  the  steel,  frame 
of  old  Zeb  was  fast  getting  under  the  dominion  of  his 
sleepy  brain. 

"  This  ain't  going  to  do,  Bud.  Oh,  Bud,  git  up  and 
bring  some  dry  wood  and  start  a  fire  while  I  unpack 
and  do  something;  ye  can't  go  to  sleep  now;"  and 
shaking  him  without  effect,  he  rubbed  Bud's  face  with 
snow,  pulling  him  on  his  feet,  and  cuffing  his  face  and 
ears.  "  Git  up,  I  tell  ye.  We'll  make  a  fire,  git  some 
grub  into  us,  and  we'll  make  a  bed  and  take  a  sleep. 
I'm  dang'd  dull  myself." 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  65 

Half  dazed,  Bud  stumbled  about,  and  after  a  fash 
ion  managed  to  help  Zeb  take  the  light  pack  from  the 
horse. 

The  tall  rye  grass  in  the  little  flat  stood  above  the 
snow,  which  was  now  hardly  two  feet  deep,  and  the 
horses  roused  themselves,  and  in  a  tired  way  nibbled 
at  it,  and  the  fire  was  made  and  the  coffee  and  bacon 
cooked;  bread  they  had  brought  with  them. 

The  coffee  and  the  food  revived  Bud  and  refreshed 
his  wiry  old  companion.  The  fire  had  melted  its  way 
to  the  ground.  A  spot  was  cleared  near  it,  the  snow- 
shoes  being  used  as  shovels  to  remove  the  snow,  fir- 
boughs  were  cut  and  thrown  on  the  wet  ground  and 
made  the  bed.  The  blankets  were  spread,  and 
wrapped  in  them  the  two  went  to  sleep.  The  wind 
was  blowing  and  the  snow  still  coming  fast,  but  in  a 
minute  both  were  unconscious. 

It  still  wanted  some  hours  of  dark  when  Zeb  awoke 
and  piled  fresh  wood  on  the  fire.  Two  or  three  inches 
of  snow  lay  on  the  blankets,  but  the  storm  seemed 
nearly  spent.  The  horses  had  made  up  to  the  fire, 
and,  moving  about  it,  showed  an  impatience  to  be  off. 

Bud  was  with  difficulty  aroused,  and  shivered  over 
the  fire,  for  his  wet  clothing  made  a  turnout  from  bed 
anything  but  comfortable.  The  snow  was  shaken 
from  the  blankets,  and  they  were  held  before  the  fire 
to  dry,  and  then  all  was  packed  on  Bud's  pack-horse; 
the  march  was  taken  up  again,  Zeb  walking,  but  Bud, 
too  sore  and  lame  at  first  to  hardly  move,  was  helped 
on  his  horse  by  Zeb,  and  rode,  until  either  shame  at 
seeing  the  old  man  sturdily  striding  down  the  hill,  or 
the  discomfort  of  bare-back  riding,  brought  him  to  his 
feet,  on  which  he  staggered  along  in  the  rear. 
5 


06  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

They  worked  down  stream  a  few  miles,  getting 
quite  near  the  river,  which,  through  lower  hills  or 
broken  ground,  was  now  making  its  way  to  a  more 
level  country,  and  in  a  fitting  place  made  camp  for  the 
night. 

The  next  night  they  reached  what  seemed  to  be  a 
most  desirable  winter  range,  and  concluded  to  go  no 
farther,  but  leave  the  horses  there,  free  to  wander  down 
stream  should  weather  or  inclination  prompt  them. 
In  a  tree  they  cached  the  pack-saddle,  taking  a  mental 
note  of  its  position ;  they  congratulated  themselves  on 
the  prospect  of  abundant  feed,  water,  and  shelter  the 
range  afforded. 

The  horses,  when  turned  out,  fell  to  eating  the  grass 
with  appetites  that  fasting  and  fatigue  had  made  most 
keen. 

"  I'm  pretty  well  beat  out,"  Bud  said  that  evening. 
' '  I  thought  I  could  hold  my  own  with  most  any  man ; 
but  you  are  fresh,  and  I'm  sore  and  lame  and  tired  all 
over." 

""Well,  Bud,  yer  young  and  soft  and  green.  I've 
been  doing  this  sort  of  thing,  or  something  like  it,  for 
forty  years,  and  I've  got  tough  and  hard.  We'll 
camp  another  day  here  'fore  we  start  back ;  ye'll  git 
limber  soon,  and  we  won't  have  no  such  pull  as  we 
had.  I  was  nigh  done  up  myself  'fore  we  got  to 
the  divide,  when  old  Bally  came  so  clost  to  giving 
out." 

The  storm  cleared  with  cold,  freezing  weather.  A 
rousing  fire,  with  a  great  stick  for  a  back  log,  helped 
out  the  protection  given  by  the  two  blankets  mak 
ing  their  bed;  and  with  their  feet  to  the  heat,  they 
managed,  by  replenishing  the  fire  at  times,  to  keep 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  67 

warm.     Their  fatigue  induced  sleep,  and,  spite  of  the 
cold,  they  were  greatly  refreshed  next  morning. 

That  day  was  spent  looking  after  the  horses,  and  by 
going  about,  further  satisfying  themselves  that  the 
range  would  be  safe  and  comfortable  for  the  horses 
until  spring. 

With  much  fondling  and  many  injunctions  "  to  take 
care  of  yourself,  old  cuss,"  and  whinnyings  from  old 
Bally,  Zeb  and  he  took  leave  of  each  other. 

While  in  many  respects  Bally  was  by  temperament 
utterly  vicious,  and  unmanageable  by  any  one  but  his 
master,  biting  and  kicking  at  Bud  on  the  slightest 
attempt  at  familiarity,  obstinate  and  perverse,  his 
affection  for  Zeb  was  an  overmastering  passion  with 
him,  and  on  this  last  evening  he  came  up  to  the 
fire,  standing  for  minutes  watching  his  friend,  and 
when  the  tenderness  in  his  crabbed  old  heart  could 
no  longer  restrain  itself,  he  would  go  up  to  him  and 
put  his  head  on  his  shoulder,  Zeb  talking  to  him 
meanwhile. 

"Dog  gone  ye,  Bally,  I  hate  to  leave  ye,  but  ye 
see  here's  grass  and  water  and  little  snow,  and  ye'll 
have  a  good  time  this  winter,  and  we'll  both  come  out 
fat  in  the  spring.  Dang  yer  old  heart,  but  it's  too 
bad  !  Keep  out  from  behind  him,  Bud;  he's  an  old 
devil.  Yes,  yer  a  bad  one,  Bally,  but  ye  love  me, 
don't  ye?  "  as  the  horse  would  lick  his  ear  and  face. 
' '  Yer  a-kissing  of  me.  Nobody  knows  ye  but  me. 
Kissing  me,  a-kicking  and  a- rearing  up  and  biting  at 
everybody  else.  Well,  it  ain't  for  me  to  say  nothing; 
but  an  old  cuss  like  ye  oughter  to  have  better  man 
ners.  Why,  old  man,  'pears  like  yer  thought  ye'd 
never  see  me  again.  Here's  salt  for  ye,  and  when  ye 


68  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

eat  that,  clear  out  and  feed;  ye  have  your  business 
and  I've  got  mine." 

Notwithstanding  this  command,  Bally  lingered 
about  the  fire,  watching  them  as  they  ate,  edging  him 
self  up  to  Zeb,  and  resting  his  head  against  him. 
"  What's  inter  ye,  Bally?  Yes,"  as  the  horse  would 
whinny,  "  it's  too  bad,  too  dang  bad  !  But  I'll  come 
for  ye  when  the  grass  is  green." 

Not  until  their  first  pipes  were  smoked  did  Bally, 
with  a  last  putting  down  of  his  head  to  his  master's  face, 
as  he  found  chance  to  do  between  the  puffs  of  smoke, 
and  many  a  fond  caress  in  return,  move  hesitatingly 
away,  stopping  and  turning  back  his  head  as  he  went. 

"The  old  cuss  knows  we're  going  to  leave,  and 
something  is  on  his  mind  more  nor  common;  he  ain't 
more  nor  seventeen  year  old,  and  he's  sound  as  a 
dollar.  lie  can't  git  no  harm  here.  I  never  see  a 
better  place  to  winter  stock,  but  it  makes  me  feel  bad 
the  way  he  acts,  he's  so  dang  wise.  I  hope  nothing 
will  happen  to  him;  'twould  knock  me  out,  we've 
been  friends  so  long.  'Tain't  a  Christian  thing  to  say, 
but  I'd  rather  see  some  men  die  than  him.  He's 
onery,  I  know ;  a  onery  old  devil,  if  there  ever  was  one ; 
but  we're  friends.  He  don't  vally  any  one  else  a 
tinker's  dam;  he's  took  to  me." 

"  I  never  could  make  friends  with  him,"  said  Bud. 

"  No,  nor  no  one  else.  I  never  see  sich  a  hoss. 
There's  a  good  deal  of  dog  about  him,  only  dogs 
ain't  so  bad.  A  good  dog  don't  want  to  have  nobody 
a-patting  him  and  a-talking  to  him  but  his  master,  but 
he'll  give  anybody  a  civil  answer  and  put  up  with  a 
heap,  cause  a  dog's  naterally  polite;  but  Bally,  he's 
the  worst  I  ever  see.  Never  would  make  up  with 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  69 

nobody  but  me,  and  always  got  mad  if  anybody  else 
spoke  to  him  or  looked  at  him." 

"  How  long  have  you  had  him,  Zeb?  " 

"  "Well,  let's  see;  rnebbe  twelve  years  or  so.  I  was 
in  the  Grande  Ronde  Valley,  and  I  passed  some 
fellers  with  a  band  of  hosses.  I  see  Bally  in  among 
'em,  and  I  took  a  notion  to  him.  A  feller  stumped 
me  to  trade  for  a  mule  I  had,  and  said:  '  I'll  give  ye 
yer  pick  of  the  band  and  ten  dollars  for  that  mule; ' 
good  mule  he  was,  but  I  hadn't  had  him  long  and 
didn't  care  nothing  'special  'bout  him. 

"  '  That's  a  go,'  said  I,  and  I  picked  Bally  out  of 
the  band.  I  see  from  the  feller's  talk  that  something 
was  wrong  with  him.  He  said  he'd  rather  I  had 
taken  any  other  hoss  and  all  that,  but  I  had  sized 
them  hoss  men  years  afore,  and  I  knew  that  some 
thing  was  wrong  with  the  hoss.  They're  deceiving 
men — all  hoss- traders  is — and  I  didn't  like  the  way  he 
was  talking,  trying  to  make  me  keen  to  take  Bally, 
but  1  was  in  for  it,  and  I  said,  '  That's  the  one  I  want. ' 

"After  a  while  he  and  another  man  with  him 
caught  up  the  hoss,  Bally  rareing  up  and  kicking,  and 
biting  at  the  lariat  they  threw  on  his  neck,  and  yer 
couldn't  git  nigh  him,  so  they  had  to  lass  him  by  the 
hind  foot  and  throw  him.  We  got  my  rope  on  him  at 
last,  and  they  rode  off  with  the  mule,  and  me  a-hold- 
ing  Bally.  He'd  pull  back  on  the  rope  and  kick  and 
rare  and  yell,  and  then  he'd  come  up  and  try  to  strike 
me  with  his  fore-feet,  squealing  and  bawling  all  the 
time. 

' '  I  was  a  better  man  then  than  I  be  now,  but  I  had 
as  hard  a  tussle  with  that  hoss  as  I  ever  had  in  my  life. 
First  off  I'd  a-sold  him  for  two  bits,  and  then  I'd  have 


70  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

given  a  man  a  twenty-dollar  piece  to  take  him  off  my 
hands,  and  then  I  come  down  to  business.  No  man 
could  buy  that  hoss  for  no  money.  '  Dang  ye, '  says  I, 
'  yer  my  hoss,  and  I  hain't  yer  man  by  a  plaguey 
sight ! '  I  held  onto  the  rope,  and  when  he'd  come  up 
to  strike  at  me,  I'd  knock  him  in  the  head  with  my 
fist  and  stagger  him.  The  rope  I  had  on  him  was 
stout.  I'd  always  been  a-cussing  at  that  rope,  it  was 
so  big  and  heavy.  But,  so  it  goes;  ye'll  cuss  a  thing 
for  all  that's  out,  and  first  thing  yer  know  'twill 
come  in  as  handy  as  a  pocket  in  a  shirt ;  it  was  just 
the  thing  then,  ye  bet.  I  got  the  end  of  the  rope 
snubbed  round  a  tree,  and  at  last  I  brought  him  up 
short  to  it.  I  was  that  tuckered  I  sat  down  and 
looked  at  Bally.  I  never  see  sich  a  wicked  eye  in  a 
hoss  before.  He  was  a-kicking  and  rareing  and 
a-rolling  on  the  ground,  and  then  he'd  brace  himself 
and  set  back  on  his  legs  and  pull  on  the  rope,  but  the 
rope  was  stout  and  he  couldn't  budge  it. 

11 1  unpacked  and  camped  right  there,  for  water  and 
grass  was  handy. 

"I  ain't  no  hoss  man,  never  was,  and  always  de 
spised  a  kicking,  bucking  cayuse,  and  here  I'd  been 
and  got  the  meanest  hoss  a  man  ever  had;  but  my 
blood  was  up  and  I  was  going  to  master  him  if  I 
killed  him  or  he  killed  me. 

"That  night  I  thought  it  all  over,  and  the  next 
morning  I  tackled  him.  I'd  kept  him  without  a  bite 
to  eat,  for  I'd  drawn  him  up  so  clost  to  the  tree  he 
couldn't  git  his  head  down;  but  when  I  went  up  to 
him,  he  was  just  fierce  as  ever,  biting  at  me  and 
squealing  with  madness.  '  Oh,  ye  devil,'  I  said,  *  I'll 
take  this  out  of  ye.'  I  hain't  no  man  to  'buse  a  hoss 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  71 

nor  nothing  that  walks;  but  that  hoss  was  a-going 
to  git  sense  or  he  was  going  to  die.  I  warn't  in  no 
hurry ;  I  got  something  to  eat  and  smoked.  I  thought 
I'd  keep  him  another  day  without  eating  or  drinking, 
and  mebbe  'twould  tame  him;  but  I  hadn't  nothing 
to  do  only  to  look  at  him,  and  he  looked  so  wicked 
and  it  seemed  kinder  mean  to  fight  anything  when  it 
was  weak  from  hunger  and  thirst,  and  I  thought  I'd 
give  the  cuss  some  show. 

"  There  was  alders  along  the  crick,  and  I  cut  a  good 
one  nearly  three  inches  thick,  and  six  foot,  or  so,  long. 
I  went  up  to  the  hoss  with  my  club  in  my  hand,  and 
let  out  the  rope,  so  that  he  had  twenty  feet  of  it  to 
circle  round  with.  As  soon  as  he  had  this  liberty  he 
made  for  me,  his  eye  as  wicked  as  ever,  and  rareing 
up  he  tried  to  strike  me  with  both  his  front  feet.  I 
watched  my  chance  and  hit  him  in  the  head  with  my 
club — a  terrible  blow  it  was,  for  the  alder  was  strong 
and  heavy — and  he  fell  like  a  log.  I  thought  I'd  killed 
him,  and  I  went  up  to  him,  but  he  was  only  stunned; 
and  while  I  was  a-talking  kind  to  him,  he  got  on 
his  feet,  looking  kind  of  dazed  like.  Pretty  soon  the 
devil  came  in  him  again,  and  he  rushed  at  me,  and  I 
knocked  him  down  again ;  and  then  I  thought  I  had 
surely  killed  him,  he  lay  so  long;  but  at  last,  all  of  a 
tremble,  he  got  up  and  looked  at  me.  "We  looked 
each  other  steady  in  the  eye  for  a  bit,  and  then  his 
eyes  dropped  and  I  knew  I  had  him. 

"  I  picketed  him  on  good  grass  after  giving  him 
some  water,  but  he  wouldn't  feed,  though  he  drank 
well.  All  that  day  he  didn't  eat,  and  would  watch  me, 
not  like  he  was  afeared,  but  like  he  was  a-thinking. 

"  That  night  I  heerd  him  a-f ceding,  and  the  next 


73  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

morning  I  went  up  to  him  like  all  had  heen  friendly 
between  us.  He  let  me  pat  him  after  a  while,  and  I 
give  him  some  salt.  He  let  me  put  a  pack  on  him ; 
the  one  I  had  taken  off  the  mule  when  we  traded. 
'Twas  all  new  to  him,  and  he  didn't  like  it.  The 
devil  would  get  in  his  eyes  again,  and  I  would  look 
him  hard  and  strong,  and  his  eyes  would  drop,  but  I 
led  him  that  day  'bout  six  miles,  and  he  was  like  any 
young  hoss  Avith  his  first  load  on,  but  quieter.  He 
would  let  me  handle  him  and  was  a-watching  me  all 
the  time.  I  was  kind  to  him  and  talked  to  him.  That 
night  I  picketed  him  with  the  other  t\vo  hosses  I  had. 
Next  morning  I  packed  him  again,  and  was  a-kneeling 
down,  cutting  a  string  from  a  buckskin,  when  I  heerd 
him  snap  a  little  rope  he  was  tied  with  and  come 
a-charging  for  me.  My  gun  was  on  the  ground  near 
me,  and  I  got  up  with  it  just  as  his  front  feet  missed 
me.  I  brought  the  gun  down  on  his  head  and  knocked 
him  stiff,  but  that  gun  was  no  good  no  more. 

"  I  never  struck  Bally  again,  not  even  with  a  switch. 
"When  he  come  to  I  got  him  up,  spoke  kind  to  him, 
and  stroked  his  head.  'Twas  a  long  time  afore  we 
got  down  to  be  real  friendly,  but  we  did,  and  no  better 
hoss  no  man  ever  had  than  him.  We've  had  tough 
times  and  we've  had  easy  times,  but  Bally's  been  there 
all  the  time.  I  could  tell  ye  things  that  old  hoss  has 
done  would  surprise  ye.  Most  men  wouldn't  believe 
me,  but  they'd  be  gospel  truth.  Since  you.  saw  me, 
I've  been  a-packing  him,  'cause  that  gray  of  mine 
hain't  no  sense  with  a  pack;  hangs  himself  on  every 
tree  he  comes  to,  so  I  have  to  ride  him,  but  Bally  is 
my  riding  hoss,  and  better  no  man's  got  for  rough 
work. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  73 

"  'Twas  in  '77,  or  thereabouts,  I  was  south  of  Snake 
River  and  the  Injuns  was  bad.  I  was  a-goin'  from 
Silver  down  to  Goose  Crick  way,  where  I  had  left  a 
pack  hoss  and  some  traps,  only  me  and  Bally.  I  had 
my  gun,  a  little  grub,  and  a  blankit;  riding  light 
like.  I  hadn't  seen  no  Injuns,  and  while  they  was  on 
my  mind,  there  wan't  no  sign.  Still,  I  made  fire  one 
day,  'bout  three  hours  sundown,  cooked,  and  then 
rode  on  eight  miles  or  so,  and  camped.  I  let  Bally 
loose  and  lay  down  to  sleep.  Just  'bout  light  I  woke 
by  him  a-biting  and  pulling  the  blankit.  I  knew 
something  was  up,  for  he  has  a  nateral  savey  of  Injuns, 
and  hates  'em  like  the  devil.  I  got  up  and  saddled  as 
still  as  I  could.  I  had  to  cross  a  fork  of  the  Bruneau, 
not  more  nor  half  a  mile  or  so  from  where  I  camped. 
I  rode  down  towards  the  ford.  It  was  full  light 
when  we  got  nigh  the  ford,  for  I  had  picked  along, 
keeping  the  high  ground  as  much  as  I  could.  I  didn't 
like  Bally 's  actions;  he  was  a-snorting  and  a- winking 
of  his  ears.  The  ford  was  in  a  place  where  it  was 
open  and  clear  of  bushes,  and  just  before  I  got  there  a 
couple  of  shots  come  and  the  bullets  whistled  by  me. 
Being  as  the  ground  near  the  ford  was  so  open,  I 
made  to  cross  the  river  below  it,  and  into  the  water 
we  went,  slap  into  a  hole  that  took  Bally  off  his  feet, 
and  he  tuck  on't  swimming.  I  didn't  want  to  wind 
the  hoss  there,  for  the  stream  was  high  and  rough,  with 
a  surgin'  current,  so  I  slipped  off  the  saddle,  and  keep 
ing  my  gun  high,  paddled  'long  side  of  the  hoss.  Just 
as  we  got  to  the  other  bank,  and  where  it  was  steep 
and  hard  to  git  up,  the  shots  come  in  putty  fast,  one 
of  'em  ploughing  along  Bally 's  shoulder  and  one  on 
'em  barking  my  neck  here,"  as  he  put  his  hand  up, 


74  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

where  was  an  old  scar,  one  of  the  many  that  his  head 
and  face  bore,  and  indicated  the  place.  ' '  We  got  up 
the  bank  somehow,  but  Bally  broke  away  from  me 
and  run  off.  I  had  got  to  trust  him  and  it  hurt  me, 
but  I  went  into  the  willows,  going  along  as  fast  as  I 
could,  when,  as  I'm  a  live  man,  I  see  Bally  coming 
back  to  me.  He  came  up  and  turned,  and  waited  for 
me  to  get  on  him ;  I  jumped  into  the  saddle,  and  we 
were  off  like  scat.  Bally  under  me  and  Injuns  behind 
I  was  all  right,  for  no  Injun  could  catch  us,  I  knew 
that  dang  well,  so  I  monkeyed  along.  After  a  bit 
some  on  'em  followed,  but  I  nailed  one  devil.  I  saw 
him  throw  up  his  hands  when  he  was  struck,  Injun 
like,  and  I  plugged  another,  but  I  misdoubt  killing 
him,  and  then  Bally  showed  his  heels  to  the  whole 
outfit.  That's  how  that  white  streak  come  along  his 
shoulder.  Well,  after  that,  I  set  a  heap  on  that  hoss, 
and  I've  other  reasons  for  it,  too. 

"But  dang  it,  since  I  met  ye,  Bud,  I'm  a-telling 
things  I  had  forgot.  Somehow  things  come  to  me, 
and  one  brings  on  another  when  we  get  a-talking. 
We'd  better  make  an  early  start  to-morrow,  so  let's 
turn  in." 


CHAPTEK  YI 

CARRYING  their  snowshoes  and  blankets,  which,  with 
their  guns,  somewhat  encumbered  their  movements, 
they  started  back  before  sunrise  next  day.  The  rising 
ground  on  their  way  gave  them  a  sight  of  the  horses 
feeding  in  the  level  below. 

"  Good  luck  to  ye,  Bally,"  said  Zeb;  "I  hope  ye'll 
winter  well,  but  I  ain't  that  easy  in  leaving  ye.  I  wish 
I  was.  But  ye'll  be  all  right,  I  know  ye  will.  Dog 
gone  a  cussed  country  where  a  man  can't  keep  his 
hoss  with  him  six  months  in  the  year.  I  swear  every 
winter  that  the  next  one  I'll  be  out  of  the  snow,  but 
I'm  that  dang  fool,  winter  comes  and  snow  comes, 
and  I'm  third  man  every  time." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  snow  became  deeper, 
making  it  easier  to  walk  on  the  shoes  than  to  carry 
them.  They  made  a  few  miles  with  them,  Bud  add 
ing  to  his  knowledge  of  the  art. 

"Camp's  but  twenty  miles  from  here,  I  reckon. 
"We  must  have  come  eighteen  miles  to-day,  and  I  don't 
think  it's  more  nor  thirty-eight  miles  from  the  cabin 
to  where  we  left  the  hosses,"  said  Zeb,  around  the  fire 
in  the  evening. 

"  We'll  be  in  camp  by  this  time  to-morrow  night, 
then?" 

"Mebbe  we  will,  but  ye'll  find  it  quite  a  pull,  I 
tell  ye.  The  snow  hasn't  packed  much,  and  'twill  be 


76  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

slow  work  from  this  on.  Ye'll  be  kind  of  sore  to 
morrow  morning  from  this  little  walk  to-day,  and 
ye'll  be  more  'fore  we  get  front  of  the  fireplace, 
Bud." 

Youth  has  faith  of  its  own,  that  knowledge  of 
things  unseen,  the  foundation  of  hope,  for  hope  be 
longs  to  youth,  but  the  wisdom  of  one  day  is  the  folly 
of  the  next.  Bud  knew  he  could  make  the  cabin 
easily  the  next  day,  but  when  the  day  came,  it  was 
hardly  noon  before  he  changed  his  mind.  Zeb  had 
gone  on  slowly,  stopping  frequently  to  give  the  young 
man  breath ;.  for  himself,  he  could  have  made  twice  the 
distance  in  the  time. 

As  they  came  to  one  of  these  pauses,  Bud  said,  "  I'm 
going  to  carry  my  shoes  a  while ;  this  slipping  along 
and  pushing  the  weight  of  them  is  tiresome." 

"Give  me  the  shoes,"  Zeb  insisted;  "ye'll  find  it 
all  ye  want  to  carry  yerself  in  this  snow." 

And  he  soon  found  it  was,  and  got  on  the  shoes 
again,  but  after  a  little  he  suggested  that  they  stop 
and  take  their  lunch.  After  this  and  a  smoke,  and  as 
long  a  rest  as  Zeb  would  allow,  they  took  up  the 
march  again. 

Laboriously  Bud  toiled,  his  shoes  getting  heavier 
with  every  step,  and  the  way  growing  steeper.  His 
back  ached,  the  muscles  of  his  legs  were  sore,  and  his 
ankles  were  tired  and  worn  from  the  effort  of  keeping 
the  shoes  straight,  but  he  kept  grittily  on  for  an  hour 
or  two,  until  Zeb  saw  he  was  fast  fagging  out. 

"  We'll  go  on  half  a  mile  or  so  and  make  camp," 
he  said ;  ' '  there's  a  good  place  there,  and  to-morrow 
we  can  make  it  in,  it  ain't  more  nor  twelve  miles  or 
so  now." 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  77 

Next  day  Bud  could  hardly  rise.  Their  insufficient 
bed-clothing  had,  in  spite  of  the  fire,  kept  him  cold  all 
night,  and  he  began  the  last  day's  walk  in  sorry 
plight,  dragging  along  his  legs  with  pain  and  diffi 
culty. 

To  get  to  the  summit,  a  sharp  pitch  of  a  mile  or  so 
had  to  be  ascended.  Sometimes  on  his  shoes;  some 
times  wading  in  the  snow,  carrying  them ;  sometimes 
on  hands  and  knees,  with  great  toil  and  pain,  he  at 
last  gained  Zeb  on  the  ridge,  who,  carrying  the  blan 
kets,  had  gone  ahead. 

His  progress  had  been  so  slow  that  two  hours  had 
been  spent  in  making  the  last  mile,  and  he  was,  as  he 
told  Zeb,  "  about  dead." 

"It's  mostly  down  hill  from  here  on;  there's  no 
sharp  rise,  anyway.  Get  your  breath  and  rest  a  little. 
All  ye'll  have  to  do  will  be  to  keep  on  yer  shoes. 
Take  the  stick  and  poke  along  with  it,  and  when  ye 
git  going  too  fast  put  it  between  yer  legs,  and  let  the 
end  drag  in  the  snow  behind.  Ye  can  sit  down  on  it, 
and  it's  like  a  rough  lock  on  a  wheel  or  a  brake. 
Don't  let  the  shoes  run  away  with  ye,  mind  that," 
said  Zeb. 

Going  down  hill  is  naturally  easier  than  going  up; 
for  an  object  lesson  to  clearly  demonstrate  this  propo 
sition,  snowshoeing  on  the  long  or  Norwegian  shoe 
has  no  equal.  You  have,  with  the  greatest  exertion, 
on  the  level,  or,  worse  still,  up  hill,  pushed  your  shoes, 
clogged  and  heavy  with  snow,  slipping  back  if  the 
ground  allows,  hanging  behind  of  their  own  weight, 
getting  heavier  and  more  unmanageable,  and  you  come 
to  a  descent.  Life  begins  in  the  dead,  inert  shoes ;  they 
glide  along  without  a  movement  on  your  part;  they 


78  YELLOW  PINE  EASIN 

are  carrying  you,  instead  of  your  carrying  them.  On 
they  go ;  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  stand  up  on  them  and 
direct  their  course.  If  the  descent  is  steep  and  the  run 
long,  they  start,  gliding  so  smoothly,  increasing  their 
speed  every  minute ;  they  go  over  some  little  inequality 
with  a  bound;  they  clear  some  larger  thing  with  a 
jump ;  they  are  running  along  like  a  locomotive ;  they 
dart  like  the  flight  of  a  fool  hen;  they  overcome  dis 
tance  like  a  rifle  ball;  no  longer  inanimate,  wooden 
clogs  that  with  strained  muscles  you  have  tediously 
been  urging  on,  but  living  things,  tearing  along  in 
mad  exuberance  of  spirit,  madder  and  madder  as  the 
pace  grows  hotter. 

You  may  have  ridden  a  mettlesome  horse  on  some 
cool  autumn  morning.  You  have  given  him  rein ;  he 
trots,  he  gallops,  he  leaps ;  as  his  blood  gets  warmer 
an  intoxication  comes  over  him ;  the  champagne  of  the 
frosty  air  goes  to  his  head;  he  takes  the  bit  in  his 
mouth;  faster  and  faster  he  goes  over  wood  and 
water,  like  a  thistle-down  blown  by  the  wind. 

"We  will  say  you  are  a  cool,  phlegmatic  kind  of  a 
man ;  even  if  you  are,  you  slowly  begin  to  feel  the 
wine  acting  on  you,  and  gradually  you  partake  of  the 
good  steed's  exhilaration.  Your  blood  comes  and 
goes;  to  every  bound  of  the  horse  your  ecstatic  spirit, 
your  body,  lifts  itself;  so  light  you  feel  yourself,  'tis 
thistle-down  on  thistle-down;  and  if  you  be  of  those 
who  feel  they  can  ride  as  fast  as  a  horse  can  run,  that 
union  of  horse  and  man  comes  to  you. 

You  may  love  a  dog.  His  affection  for  you,  his  sim 
ple,  untiring  devotion  to  and  absorption  in  you,  makes 
him,  of  all  animals,  the  only  true  friend  man  has,  but 
you  are  none  of  him  nor  he  of  you.  You  are  distinct 


YELLOW  PINE  J3ASJN  79 

individuals,  necessary  to  each  other,  each  complement 
ing  the  other ;  but  there  are  times  when  a  good  horse 
is  part  of  you  and  you  of  him.  To  no  other  animal 
comes  this  union  with  man.  Is  it  a  mere  physical 
phenomenon  bred  of  rushing  through  air  together 
with  a  common  object  and  in  a  common  spirit;  or 
has,  in  the  evolution  of  both  from  the  one  germ  cell, 
something  common  to  each  clung  to  them -through 
all  the  varying  phases  of  their  diverse  development  ? 
However  that  may  be,  the  subject  is  too  abstruse  for 
us  here.  If  you  are  a  horseman,  you  will  recognize  the 
fact,  whatever  be  the  cause ;  if  you  are  not,  or  only 
know  a  horse  as  an  animal  to  drag  wheels  over  a 
good  road,  your  only  communication  with  him  being 
through  long  lines  of  leather,  all  this  may  seem  far 
fetched. 

On  the  long  Norwegian  snowshoes,  down  a  hill, 
there  is  much  to  remind  you  of  what  I  hope  you  have 
sometimes  felt  on  a  horse;  but  to  a  novice  with 
either  there  often  comes  a  sudden  check,  and  so  it 
was  with  Bud.  He  had  with  pleasure  experienced 
the  grateful  sensation  of  riding  on  his  shoes,  as  feel 
ing  the  downward  grade  they  slid  along;  and  to 
resist  their  evident  intention  of  one  going  one  way 
and  the  other  straight  on,  or  turning  still  another 
way,  he  had  from  time  to  time  used  his  pole  to  break 
their  speed;  but  as  confidence  came  to  him,  and 
they  seemed  to  run  more  truly,  he  allowed  them  more 
freedom. 

Going  down  a  little  incline  with  a  rush  that  quite 
suited  him,  for  he  was  by  nature  of  a  stirring  habit, 
and  getting  a  little  knack  of  holding  them  in  their 
proper  relative  positions,  observing,  too,  how  easily 


80  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

their  motion  was  checked  when  the  incline  became 
less  steep,  he  grew  overconfident  of  his  powers  of  con 
trol  of  them,  and  allowed  them  to  attain  quite  a  de 
gree  of  speed,  and  hardly  noticed  that  they  had  gotten 
on  a  long  steep  incline  and  were  beginning  to  run 
with  him.  In  trying  to  get  his  pole  between  his  legs 
to  add  his  weight  to  retard  them  with  that  brake,  he 
lost  his  pole  and  with  it  all  control  of  the  shoes. 

Faster  and  faster  they  went,  the  trees  whizzing  by 
him  as  he  sped  on.  They  had  taken  the  bit  in  their 
teeth,  and  were  carrying  him  in  the  wildest  run  he 
had  ever  made.  He  tried  to  keep  his  legs  rigid ;  he 
thought  of  falling  down,  but  there  seemed  no  good 
place  to  do  it  and  avoid  being  dashed  against  the 
trees.  He  seemed  going  to  inevitable  destruction  with 
the  swiftness  of  a  cannon  ball. 

Absolute  paralysis  seized  him,  and  he  only  awaited 
an  end  that  in  a  few  seconds  or  minutes  he  felt  must 
come  to  him,  when  he  would  be  dashed  to  death  against 
some  great  tree  trunk. 

Fortunately,  however,  fate  had  reserved  Bud  for 
other  things ;  and  one  shoe  striking  a  twig  so  as  to  de 
flect  its  course,  and  the  other  going  straight  ahead, 
he  was  hurled  twenty  feet  through  the  air  and  buried 
in  the  snow,  where  Zeb,  who  had  been  passed  in  his 
wild  flight,  found  him  unconscious,  and  after  vigor 
ously  rubbing  his  face  with  snow  finally  brought 
him  to. 

"  Ye'll  be  a  better  snowshoer  afore  ye  make  two 
miles  in  that  time  again,  I  bet  ye,  Bud.  Why  didn't 
ye  sit  down  or  fall  off  or  do  something?  It's  God's 
mercy  and  a  fool's  luck  ye  warn't  killed.  Yer  all 
right;  no  bones  broken,"  said  Zeb. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  81 

Bud's  gun  had  been  strapped  behind  his  back,  Zeb,  on 
account  of  his  superiority  on  the  shoes,  having  insisted 
on  carrying  all  the  load.  Besides  a  general  shaking  up, 
he  had  a  great  bruise  across  his  head,  made  by  the  gun- 
barrel  when  he  fell,  but  no  serious  injury  had  been 
received;  and  after  Zeb  had  collected  the  shoes,  which 
had  brought  up  against  some  bushes  whose  tops  stood 
above  the  snow,  Bud,  weak  and  still  dazed  by  his  fall, 
was  able  to  proceed. 

It  was  well  along  in  the  night  before  the  friendly 
shelter  of  the  cabin  was  reached,  and  only  Zeb's  as 
sistance  and  support  got  them  there  then. 

For  many  days  Bud  felt  the  effects  of  his  first  snow- 
shoe  trip,  and  it  was  three  before  he  could  join  Zeb  at 
their  work.  Every  bone  he  had  ached,  every  muscle 
was  sore,  but  Zeb  never  alluded  to  his  friend's  confi 
dence  in  his  ability  to  snowshoe. 

Other  storms  came,  and  it  took  half  their  time  to 
shovel  the  snow  away  to  clear  the  cut,  but  in  spite  of 
all  this  they  made  good  progress. 

Every  day  they  took  a  pan  of  gravel,  sometimes 
two  or  three  pans,  and  washed  it;  they  could  no 
longer  doubt  but  that  they  had  really  "struck  it." 
Sometimes  they  would  get  of  gold,  what  Zeb  would  call 
"  a  bit  to  the  pan. "  Sometimes  it  would  be  five  cents, 
or  ten  cents,  sometimes  only  a  cent;  and  once  they 
panned  through  a  streak  that  produced  five  bits  in 
each  of  several  pans.  All  these  grains  of  gold  were 
carefully  secured,  and  the  little  phial  Zeb  put  them  in 
was  nearly  half  full,  and  had  perceptible  weight;  he 
thought  over  an  ounce. 

The  storms  had  driven  away  the  deer  and  elk,  and 
the  bear  had  holed  up;  a  lynx  now  and  then,  the  pine 
6 


82  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

martens  in  the  trees,  a  few  cotton-tail  rabbits,  and, 
judging  from  the  tracks,  an  occasional  cougar  and 
wolverine,  were,  with  the  few  winter  birds,  the  only 
dwellers  in  Yellow  Pine  Basin,  save  Zeb  and  Bud. 

Certainly  there  was  no  human  being  within  a  hun 
dred  miles,  unless  somewhere  in  the  wilderness  a 
trapper  might  be  plying  his  lonely  avocation. 

A  round  of  hard  labor  during  the  hours  of  light, 
which  now,  short  as  was  the  distance,  they  went  to 
and  from  on  their  snowshoes,  filled  in  the  days.  Bud 
became  quite  expert  in  the  management  of  the  snow- 
shoes,  for  besides  running  on  them  every  day  a  little, 
they  would  on  Sundays  take  long  walks  up  hill  and 
down,  making  runs  down  all  the  steep  pitches  they 
found.  He  acquired  the  slide,  and  Zeb  assured  him  he 
would  make  a  good  snowshoer,  for  his  strength  and 
wind  needed  only  practice  to  make  him  as  good  as  the 
best.  Zeb  even  told  him  he  might  get  to  be  as  good  a 
man  on  shoes  as  was  "snowshoe  Thompson,"  these 
many  years  the  ideal  of  those  who  in  the  far  Western 
snows  practise  the  art  in  which  he  was  so  proficient. 

It  was  well  along  in  December,  near  Christmas,  and 
there  came  great  storms,  the  snow  falling  steadily  for 
days.  At  last  it  seemed  labor  lost  to  shovel  out  the 
cut  every  morning,  and  the  day  before  Christmas  they 
decided  to  stop  work  until  the  storm  should  cease. 
Bud  had  killed  a  couple  of  rabbits,  and  they  were  to 
have  a  Christmas  dinner  worthy  of  the  day. 

"I'll  get  the  dinner,"  said  Zeb,  "and  mind  ye,  I 
don't  want  ye  monkeying  around  the  fire.  When  a 
man's  cooking  common  grub  he  don't  care,  but  when 
he's  got  anything  on  his  mind  like  this  yer  dinner,  he 
don't  want  nobody  chipping  in.  Yank  uster  say  I 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  83 

could  make  a  rabbit  stew  better  nor  any  one,  and  for 
duffs  he  said  I  lay  over  'em  all.  When  he'd  get  a 
little  too  much  (we  was  young  then,  Bud),  he  was 
always  talking  'bout  me,  and  if  anybody  said  anything 
the  least  agin  me,  he'd  fight  and  raise  the  devil,  and 
nobody  could  do  nothing  with  him  but  me.  He  was 
a  terror,  Yank  was,  and  'twas  his  rule  to  get  drunk 
on  Fourth  of  July  and  Christmas.  '  Whatever  I  am,' 
he  uster  say,  '  I'm  an  American  and  a  Christian,  and 
I'll  obsarve  them  days.' 

"  He  uster  feel  so  good  them  mornings  when  he'd 
go  out  of  the  cabin  and  make  a  bee  line  for  a  saloon. 
He  had  an  idee  'twas  his  duty;  and  when  Yank 
thought  he  had  a  duty  on  hand,  he  didn't  hang  back, 
that  warn't  his  way ;  but  he'd  smile  like,  and  go  to  it  as 
peart  as  you  please.  Didn't  make  no  difference  what  it 
was,  nor  how  bad,  nor  how  good,  it  was  all  the  same ; 
and  so  he  had  that  idee  'bout  them  days.  Curous, 
warn't  it  ?  I  never  had  no  like  for  getting  drunk — 
course  I  did  sometimes — but  I  hadn't  no  taste  that 
way.  But  when  it  come  Fourth  of  July  I  had  to, 
that's  all.  Yank  would  have  it  so,  but  Christmas  he 
warn't  so  sot  on. 

'"What  pious  idees  you  has,  Zeb,'  he  uster  say, 
'is  naterally  Baptist,  and  there's  a  kind  of  water 
streak  in  'em.  Bern'  raised  that  way,  your  idees  is 
differnt;  but  there  ain't  but  one  idee  'bout  Fourth  of 
July.  Yer  an  American  and  it's  Fourth  of  July. '  And 
so  I  jist  had  to  git  drunk;  he  wouldn't  have  it  no 
other  way. 

"Well,  one  Christmas,  long  say  '55  or  so,  I  said 
I'd  make  a  duff;  and  Yank  says,  '  I'll  go  down  and 
obsarve  the  day  like  a  Christian.'  That  was  a  dig  at 


84  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

me,  for  Yank  had  a  low-down  idee  of  Baptists ;  but  I 
didn't  care,  nor,  for  the  matter  of  that,  did  Yank 
either.  I  had  raisins  and  citron  and  brandy — I  wish 
to  Lord  I  had  some  now  and  I'd  show  ye  a  duff  to 
morrow — and  I  made  the  slickest  duff  I  ever  did  make 
that  day ;  it  was  a  posey. 

' '  Dinner-time  come,  and  I  took  out  the  duff,  for, 
drunk  or  sober,  Yank  was  always  on  time.  He  prided 
himself  on  that.  I  put  it  on  the  table,  and  I  never  see 
no  such  duff  before  nor  sence.  I  heerd  a  noise  and 
went  to  the  door,  and  there  was  Yank  coming  up  the 
gulch  with  his  gun  drawn  on  a  black-haired,  black- 
whiskered,  wicked-looking  Spaniard,  and  a  crowd 
a-followin'  'em.  In  Yank  marched  him.  '  Dog  gone 
ye,'  he  says,  '  Zeb  can't  make  a  duff  fit  for  a  hog  to 
eat,  can't  he?  Sit  ye  down  there  and  eat  that  duff, 
or  I'll  blow  yer  head  off. '  And  as  I'm  a  living  man  he 
made  the  Spaniard  eat  the  whole  duff;  'twas  hot  and 
'twas  big.  He  liked  to  burn  himself  and  bust  himself, 
and  the  last  of  it  went  hard,  too. 

"I  tried  hard  to  stop  Yank.  'Why,  Zeb,'  he 
says,  '  the  Greaser  has  said  things  of  ye  no  man  shall 
say.  Drive  on,'  he'd  say,  as  the  man  would  stop 
while  I  was  talking ;  '  bolt  that  ere  duff  or  yer  a  dead 
man ; '  and  the  crowd  that  would  come  with  'em  was 
a-laffin'.  When  it  was  all  down  the  man,  Yank 
catches  him  by  the  collar  and  kicks  him  out,  and  then 
he  laffed  fit  to  kill,  and  asked  the  crowd  to  go  down 
and  take  a  drink,  and  they  all  went  off  with  him. 

11  Well,  that's  how  that  duff  went.  The  way  of  it 
was  this.  Yank  had  filled  himself  up  pretty  well,  and 
the  Greaser  come  into  the  saloon,  kinder  looking  for 
a  fight,  for  he  was  one  of  them  kind  of  fellers;  folks 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  85 

was  kinder  shy  of  him,  he'd  shoot  and  he'd  cut  so; 
but  Yank,  drunk  or  sober,  never  feered  nothing  that 
walked.  The  Greaser  was  trying  to  bring  on  a  fight, 
for  he'd  said  in  the  other  gulch  what  he'd  do  to 
Yank,  but  Yank  was  good  natured,  and  never  looked 
for  no  fight,  and  'twas  Christmas  Day,  and  he  warn't 
goin'  to  fight  'less  he  had  to,  and  so  they  kinder  kept 
apart.  The  saloon  was  full,  for  everybody  knew 
Yank  would  take  so  much,  and  though  he  was  peace 
able,  when  he'd  stood  enough  he'd  fight.  Yank  was 
a-tellin'  'bout  me,  like  he  always  did  at  them  times, 
and  he  said  I  could  make  a  better  duff  than  any  man 
in  Calif orny;  and  the  Greaser,  seein'  a  p'int  to  chip 
in,  said  he  lied,  I  couldn't  make  a  duff  fit  for  a  hog 
to  eat.  That  was  enough  for  Yank,  and  he  made  for 
him  with  his  fists,  but  the  feller  drew  and  missed. 
Yank  was  on  him  like  a  bulldog,  took  away  his  gun 
and  drew  his.  '  Come  along  with  me,  ye  dirty  Greaser, ' 
he  says ;  '  come  along  with  me ; '  and  so  he  marched  him 
up  to  the  cabin  and  made  him  eat  that  duff,  as  I  say. 

"First  off,  I  was  mad  at  Yank,  and  then  I  laffed 
myself  at  the  idee  of  the  thing.  I  making  that  duff, 
the  finest  I  ever  did  make,  and  Yank  and  me  so  fond 
of  duff,  and  then  his  making  that  man  eat  it  clean  up 
so  we  didn't  get  a  bit  of  it.  That  was  Yank  all  over, 
though ;  he  warn' t  like  no  other  man  I  ever  see. 

11 1  said  to  him  next  morning,  when  he  was  sober, 
'The  next  duff  I  make,  I'll  make  for  company.' 
'What's  that?'  says  he.  'Why,  Zeb,  that  onery 
Greaser  never  had  no  duff  before;  now  he  knows 
what  a  duff  is,  and  that  you  kin  make  a  good  one, 
and  that  was  the  p'int  of  the  argyment.'  Yank  never 
liked  me  to  speak  'bout  that,  though." 


CHAPTEK  VII 

CHRISTMAS  EVE  came,  with  the  storm  at  its  height; 
for  three  days  the  snow  had  been  falling  continuously, 
and  the  little  cabin  was  nearly  covered,  and  by  morn 
ing  threatened  to  be  quite  so. 

But  inside  all  was  comfort.  A  big  pile  of  wood 
had  been  cut  and  stacked  up  inside,  a  bright  fire  was 
burning  in  the  fireplace,  and  its  cheerful  blaze  illumi 
nated  the  interior.  On  Zeb's  chair  was  spread  the 
great  skin  of  the  silver  tip,  it's  broad  head  over  the 
back,  falling  almost  to  the  floor,  it's  great  pads  and 
long  claws  stretched  out  on  either  side.  Bud's  skin, 
glossy,  and  black  as  night,  covered  his  seat,  and  both 
contributed  to  these  mean  and  common  pieces  of  fur 
niture  the  dignity  that  attaches  to  rich  fur,  whether 
it  be  on  a  king's  throne  or  on  a  log  before  a  camp- 
fire. 

The  fireplace,  on  either  side  of  which  were  these 
fur-covered  chairs,  was  broad  and  deep  and  high;  a 
great  log,  black,  even  a  little  charred,  from  the  smoke 
and  heat  below,  made  a  rough  shelf  over  it. 

The  stones  of  which  the  fireplace  was  built  were  of 
irregular  shapes  and  sizes,  no  attempt  having  been 
made  to  place  them  at  all  smoothly,  and  jutting  out 
here  and  there  at  the  sides  and  back,  their  darkened 
faces,  with  a  thick  layer  of  soot  in  places  from  the 
pitchy  nature  of  the  fuel  used,  gave  the  effect  of  a 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  87 

corner  of  an  old  stone  fence  over  which  a  forest  fire 
had  swept,  singeing  and  blackening  the  moss  that  had 
here  and  there  been  attached  to  its  stones. 

As  the  lire  burnt,  the  falling  snow  made  entrance 
through  the  wide  chimney,  and  as  it  dropped  on  the 
heated  coals,  produced  a  singing  sound  like  that  from 
a  boiling  tea-kettle.  On  wooden  pegs  driven  into  the 
logs  on  each  side  hung  the  frying-pans;  the  old  lard 
can  and  the  coffee  can,  completing  the  cooking  utensils 
of  the  cabin,  standing  on  the  hearthstone,  at  one  side. 

The  dirt  floor  had  by  this  time  hardened,  being 
twice  a  day  moistened  and  neatly  swept  with  a  broom 
Zeb  had  made  of  willow  twigs.  In  one  corner  were 
the  saddles,  bridles,  old  saddle-blankets,  ropes,  and 
other  horse  gear  piled  up  in  an  orderly  way.  Against 
the  wall  was  the  table  of  Bud's  manufacture,  and  on 
it  the  tin  plates,  cups,  knives,  forks,  and  spoons  were 
arranged.  Above  it  ran  a  long  shelf  hewn  from  a  log 
and  fastened  to  the  wall  with  big  wooden  pins. 

On  this  were  tins  of  baking  powder,  packages  of 
coffee,  a  bag  of  salt,  a  few  boxes  of  cartridges,  and 
many  other  smaller  things.  At  the  two  corners  most 
remote  from  the  fire  were  two  bunks  made  of  poles, 
and  over  the  bottom  of  them  thick  layers  of  rye  grass, 
on  which  were  the  blankets;  some  old  clothes  at  the 
head  for  pillows  completed  the  beds.  A  Winchester 
resting  on  forked  sticks,  and  dangling  below  it  a  cart 
ridge-belt  partly  filled,  hung  over  each  bunk,  and  two 
small  shelves  near  by  held  little  odds  and  ends. 
Among  these  things  on  Zeb's  shelf  appeared  a  small 
brown-covered  Testament,  a  particularly  treasured 
thing  it  was,  he  often  removing  the  dust  from  it  with 
great  care  and  no  little  tenderness,  though  it  lay 


88  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

thickly  enough  and  unmolested  on  his  sewing-bag  and 
some  fish-lines  and  other  things.  Under  one  of  the 
bunks  were  drills  and  hammers,  a  gold-pan,  and  such 
other  articles  as  naturally  gravitated  to  so  convenient 
and  retired  a  place  of  storage.  The  last  remaining  cor 
ner  had  in  it  the  sacks  in  which  was  the  stock  of  flour, 
fast  decreasing,  and  over  it  hung  what  was  left  of  the 
bacon ;  it  had  been  very  sparingly  used,  the  deer  and  elk 
meat  being  in  such  plenty.  The  axe  resting  against 
the  wood  pile  completed  the  contents  of  the  cabin. 
The  ruddy  light  from  the  fire,  softening  much  that 
was  rude  and  meagre,  threw  around  an  air  of  comfort, 
a  sort  of  home  look,  over  articles  and  surroundings, 
that,  as  I  describe  them,  seem  so  rough  and  common. 
But  on  Christmas  Eve  a  palace  may  be  dreary  in  its 
splendor — a  mountain  log  cabin  cheery  in  its  rude 
ness. 

When  we  pass  out  of  childhood  we  leave  illusions 
whose  memories,  recurring  to  us  as  holidays  come,  give 
us  an  uncertain  pleasure,  tinged  with  a  certain  melan 
choly  ;  our  minds,  in  spite  of  us,  go  back  to  the  times 
when  life  was  young  in  us,  and  the  world  we  have 
since  found  made  up  of  so  much  shade  and  sunshine 
was  all  bright  without  a  shadow. 

"With  years  come  the  experiences  that  leave  gashes 
and  ruts  in  our  hearts.  "What  we  have  gained  and 
what  we  have  lost  strike  a  balance,  and  most  of  us  find 
it  heavily  on  the  wrong  side.  The  closer  we  keep  to 
our  childish  faith,  the  simpler  lives  we  lead,  the  less 
do  we  feel  all  this.  Zeb  was  like  a  child  in  many 
ways,  with  a  heart  so  kindly  and  so  cheery  that  the 
demands  he  felt  made  on  his  good  spirits  by  Christ 
mas  times  he  could  easily  respond  to.  Bud,  not  half 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  89 

his  age,  could  not  so  readily  come  under  the  spirit  of 
the  time;  there  was  so  sharp  a  contrast  between  this 
Christmas  Eve  and  others  he  had  passed,  that  he  was 
sad  and  moody.  Many  a  cheerful  remark  of  the  old 
man  could  not  dissipate  his  gloom. 

"  Bud,  let  me  tell  ye  somethin',"  he  said.  "  There 
are  some  folks  that,  when  they  has  the  least  show  in 
the  world,  is  always  thinking  about  somethin'  that's 
gone,  or  hain't  gone  to  their  notion,  and  the  more 
miserable  and  onery  the  thing  is,  the  more  they  think 
and  gits  to  feel  luck  is  agin  'em.  If  things  had  gone  so 
and  so,  they'd  be  rich,  or  they'd  be  this  or  that. 

"  Did  ye  ever  think  what  cussed  foolishness  that  is, 
Bud  ?  If  a  thing's  gone,  it's  gone,  vamoosed,  that's 
the  end  on  it;  ye  can't  bring  it  back,  and  ten  to  one 
if  ye  could,  ye'd  be  worse  off  than  ye  are.  When  a 
thing's  gone,  let  it  go.  Ye'll  hear  a  man  say,  '  If 
this  one  or  that  one  had  been  eddicated,  what  a  man 
he  would  be — President  may  be ;  or  if  he  had  some 
one  to  help,  how  rich  he  would  be,  and  so  on. '  All 
foolishness.  If  ye  got  a  head  to  be  President,  yer 
a-going  to  get  the  eddication.  There  was  old  Johnson ; 
after  he  was  married,  his  wife  taught  him  his  letters, 
but  he  got  there,  didn't  he?  And  all  the  rich  men  I 
ever  heer'd  on  made  the  riffle  'cause  perhaps  they  was 
spryer  on  the  trail  after  a  dollar,  or  meaner  or 
smarter,  or  somethin'  else,  than  other  men.  I'm  goin' 
to  be  old  Zeb  long  as  I  live.  "Why  ?  'Cause  it  ain't 
in  me  to  be  nothing  but  old  Zeb.  I  hope  I'm  squar, 
and  I  hope  I'm  white;  and  if  I  am,  that's  all  I  am 
or  going  to  be.  Yer  a  young  man,  Bud ;  I  see  p'ints  in 
ye.  Yer  eddicated,  and  Lord  knows  what  yer  going  to 
be,  but  ye'll  be  just  what  ye  make  yerseli.  There's 


90  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

no  roads,  there's  no  trails,  there's  no  animals  to  carry 
ye  into  the  time  that's  to  come. 

"  Ye've  just  got  to  hoof  it  along  yerself,  and  so  be  if 
ye've  got  the  wind  and  the  savvy,  and  don't  get  off  on 
no  blind  trails,  thinking  ye  see  a  road  where  they  ain't 
none,  ye'll  make  it.  If  yer  kind  of  lame  and  spavined 
and  foundered,  and  hain't  got  the  right  sense,  ye'll 
be  a-plugging  'long  just  as  I  am,  just  as  I  aways  will 
be,  and  if  yer  always  a-thinking  '  if  I'd  turned  off 
here  or  gone  that  way  or  the  other,  I'd  have  been  all 
right, '  ye'll  make  yerself  miserable  when  ye  might  be 
right  peart  and  comfortable. 

"  There  are  some  things  happened  to  me,  Bud,  and 
for  one  thing  I  wish  I  was  rich,  God  knows  I  do, 
'cause  I've  got  use  for  money.  Ye  wouldn't  think  it, 
Bud,  but  I  has.  Here  I  am,  sixty  come  March.  Ain't 
I  healthy  ?  I'm  poor,  but  I  hain't  got  no  great  weight 
on  my  conscience.  I've  got  grub  and  a  good  cabin, 
and  ain't  I  happy?  Don't  I  feelgood?  I've  got  a 
good  pardner  and  half  of  a  good  claim.  That  claim 
will  make  us  money;  I  know  'twill,  Bud,  I  know 
'twill.  And  there  ye  are,  young  and  strong  and  hearty, 
and  ye've  got  a  cabin  and  grub,  and  ye've  got  half  of 
a  good  claim. ' ' 

"  Yes,  Zeb,  and  the  best  partner  a  man  ever  had," 
said  Bud,  for  there  was  no  resisting  Zeb's  kind  voice 
and  his  way. 

"I'm  going  to  do  somethin',  Bud.  Yank  always 
did  it  on  a  Christmas  Eve,  and  I've  seen  it  done  at 
posts  and  in  towns  and  in  camp,  and  when  I'm  alone 
I  always  do  it  on  Christmas  Eve.  I've  done  it  with 
whiskey,  and  I've  done  it  with  only  water,  and  I've 
done  it  with  wine,  and  now  I'm  going  to  do  it  with 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  91 

tea;  that's  a  woman's  drink,  and  so  it's  right  fit.  I've 
got  a  little  tea  in  my  sewing-bag,  I've  been  a-saving 
of  it ;  "  and  the  old  man  going  up  to  his  bag  drew  from 
it  a  little  canvas  pouch,  and  poured  from  it  a  little 
tea  into  his  hand,  and  putting  it  into  the  coffee  can 
after  cleaning  it,  and  heating  some  water  in  it,  the 
brew  was  made. 

"We  ought  to  have  sugar  to  put  in  it,"  he  said, 
"  but  as  we  hain't  none,  we'll  have  to  sweeten  it  from 
our  hearts,"  as  he  poured  the  infusion  into  two  tin 
cups,  one  for  Bud  and  one  for  himself. 

With  something  unusual  in  his  firm,  clear  voice,  he 
gave  the  old  toast,  "Sweethearts  and  wives,  God 
bless  'em!"  and  the  cups  were  drained.  "Not  that 
I've  got  any  to  count,  but  other  men  has,  and  I  say 
again,  God  bless  'em!  "  he  added. 

Where  men  of  English  speech,  on  land  or  sea,  up  in 
the  Arctics,  along  the  Equator,  in  peril  or  in  peace, 
were  gathered  away  from  home  and  those  they  loved, 
went  up  that  night  that  same  old  toast,  as  for  hun 
dreds  of  years  before  it  has  gone,  and  God  grant  for 
hundreds  of  years  yet  it  may  go.  It  has  risen  amidst 
creaking  of  masts  and  snapping  of  cordage,  death 
knocking  at  the  door,  with  great  waves  of  every  sea 
that  on  a  Christmas  Eve  has  tossed  our  fathers. 

With  "the  shouts  of  them  that  triumph,  and  the 
song  of  them  that  feast,"  with  the  wail  of  defeat,  and 
amidst  the  pangs  of  famine,  has  the  old  toast  had  its 
place.  "Sweethearts  and  wives,  God  bless  them!" 
No  more  heartfelt  prayer  was  ever  made  than  those 
words  have  borne  from  the  millions  who  have  uttered 
them. 

There  was  a  touch  of  dignity  in  old  Zeb's  manner 


92  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

as  he  did  this,  a  fervidness  in  the  spoken  words  that 
impressed  Bud.  It  seemed  to  open  to  him  something 
new  in  the  old  mountaineer.  He  had  been  struck  at 
times  before  with  some  such  feeling;  but  there  was 
something  in  the  way  he  gave  the  toast,  something  in 
his  giving  it  at  all,  something  in  the  tremor  of  his 
voice  he  had  never  heard  quaver  before,  that  was  new 
to  him  and  increased  the  desire  he  had  long  had  to 
know  more  of  this  man,  who  evidently  had  a  history. 

Zeb  was  now  quite  in  the  mood  for  Christmas  Eve; 
he  was  full  of  hearty  mirth,  and  his  mind  and  talk  ran 
from  Mexico  to  Alaska,  and  back  to  his  childhood  in 
Indiana,  and  how  this  and  that  Christmas  was  passed. 
He  was  sleigh-riding  with  the  boys  and  girls,  compan 
ions  of  his  youth ;  he  was  at  a  fandango  in  Mexico ; 
he  was  at  a  ball  in  Hangtown;  and  he  related  with 
great  glee  the  story  of  a  Christmas  Eve  with  Yank  at 
the  "Bay,"  as  San  Francisco  is  called  by  the  old 
timers. 

The  old  fellow  took  great  pleasure  in  getting  off  his 
"  Merry  Christmas  "  to  Bud  next  morning,  long  be 
fore  light,  and  in  a  voice  that  nearly  lifted  the  roof 
and  awoke  his  partner.  The  Christmas  dinner  was  a 
grand  success,  and  the  duff  was,  Bud  declared,  the 
best  he  ever  ate. 

The  storm  that  had  already  raged  so  long  was  yet 
furious,  and  the  snow,  piling  up  fast,  was  well  up  on 
the  roof  of  the  little  cabin.  It  was  no  easy  thing  to 
shovel  out  the  spring  to  get  water,  or  to  replenish  the 
supply  of  wood.  But  dinner  was  over,  and  wood  and 
water  in.  As  they  sat  before  the  fire,  it's  light  shone 
brightly  on  a  scar  on  Zeb's  neck,  and  Bud  asked  him: 
"  How  did  you  get  that  scar,  Zeb  ?  " 


93 

"  Bullit,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  But  where  and  how  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"  I  got  that  down  South,  in  the  war.  That  one  I 
got  at  Atlanty.  I  was  in  the  war  and  was  hit. ' ' 

"Why,  Zeb,  how  did  you  get  East?  I  thought 
you  were  always  out  West  here,  until  I  heard  you  say 
something  once  before  about  the  war. ' ' 


CHAPTER  VIII 

"  WELL,  'twas  this  way.  "We  uster  have  talk,  Yank 
and  me,  'bout  slavery.  Yank's  idee  was  that  a  nigger 
was  a  man,  and  had  a  right  to  be  free,  and  go  where 
he  pleased,  and  do  what  he  liked,  Constitution  or  no 
Constitution.  The  Constitution  said  all  men  was 
born  free  and  equal,  and  a  nigger  was  a  man,  and  that 
was  all  there  was  'bout  it.  Seemed  reasonable,  but 
I  was  no  nigger  lover,  and  would  have  said  right  out 
the  Constitution  says  "all  white  men,"  but  Yank 
warn't  no  man  to  mistell  a  thing;  and  though  I 
thought  it  said  all  white  men,  I  hadn't  the  nerve  to 
say  so,  af eered  I  might  be  wrong ;  and  course  we  was 
where  we  couldn't  see  no  one  of  them  maps  that  hang 
on  the  wall,  picturs  of  the  Presidents  all  around  the 
edges,  and  the  Constitution  printed  in  the  middle. 

"  We  was  in  Nevady,  'bout  forty  miles  from  Reese 
River,  in  the  winter  of  '60  and  '61,  and  had  a  quartz 
claim  there,  and  was  puttin'  in  the  winter  sinking  a 
shaft.  We  got  hold  of  two  or  three  old  papers  that 
winter,  and  things  in  the  States  looked  bad ;  hard  talk 
in  Washington  and  bad  blood  all  over  the  country.  I 
didn't  like  the  way  them  South  fellers  talked.  I  was 
Dimicrat.  Dad  was,  and  I  was.  But  I  ain't  never 
been  one  to  crow  and  flop  my  wings  when  I  was 
licked;  it's  the  other  rooster's  place  to  do  that,  and  it's 
his  right,  too. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  95 

"  As  I  sensed  it  all  up,  it  ranged  itself  in  my  head 
that  the  Dimicrats  and  the  South  put  up  a  man  or  two 
men  for  President,  and  the  Republicans  and  the  North 
beat  'em,  and  their  man  was  elected  fair  and  square, 
and  'twarn't  no  fair  play  for  the  Dimicrats  and  the 
South  to  kick.  'Twas  a  fair  fight  and  they  was 
licked;  and  it  riled  me,  too,  to  have  sich  talk  'bout 
the  whole  country,  my  country,  being  nothing  but  a 
lot  of  States,  every  one  it's  own  boss,  no  captin, 
like  a  bunch  of  ranchers  after  Injuns,  every  one 
going  it  on  his  own  hook. 

"There  warn't  no  sense  in  the  idee.  'Twas  the 
dangdest  tomfoolery  ever  was,  Bud.  Then  the  South 
ern  fellers  said  one  of  'em  could  lick  five  Northern  men, 
and  the  North  wouldn't  fight;  and  some  feller  said  he 
was  going  to  call  the  roll  of  his  slaves  on  Bunker  Hill, 
and  I  knew  differnt. 

"I  was  kinder  on  the  fence  like;  born  down  in 
Southern  In jianny ;  father  and  mother  both  come  from 
North  Caroliny ;  but  perhaps  because  I  was  setting  high 
on  the  fence  I  could  see  both  sides  clearer  than  them 
in  either  field  could.  I  saw  that  the  North  they  was 
stubborn  and  didn't  say  much,  and  I  knew  there  was 
fight  there;  both  sides  were  dead  in  earnist,  and  I 
felt  bad. 

"  Yank  and  I  didn't  say  much;  course  we  talked 
'bout  other  things,  and  each  of  us  knew  why  we  didn't 
talk.  I  was  kinder  Southern  in  my  feelings,  and  I 
knew  he  was  for  the  North  straight.  There  was 
never  no  time  before  we  didn't  say  everything  we 
thought  to  each  other.  We  worked  together,  and 
course  we  talked  'bout  the  work  and  things  of  no  ac 
count,  but  I  mean  we  never  talked  of  the  troubles,  and 


96  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

both  on  us  knew  we  were  thinking  'bout  them  all  the 
time.  "We  both  felt  bad,  but  he  was  dead  North  and 
I  was  kinder  South.  When  we  got  a  paper,  we  would 
read  it,  and  Yank  would  say,  l  That  was  a  danged 
smart  thief,  stole  a  man's  watch  from  his  pocket  on 
Sansome  Street,  while  he  was  a-looking  at  a  fire. '  And 
I  would  say,  '  I  never  see  such  a  cussed  year  for  rain ; 
been  a-raining  all  the  time  in  Californy,  'cording  to  the 
paper; '  but  never  a  word  'bout  all  the  news  we  saw, 
that  went  clean  to  our  toes  as  we  read  it.  Somehow 
we  was  kinder  gettin'  apart,  Yank  an'  me,  who  had 
been  brothers,  and  I  couldn't  stand  it.  Yank  was  so 
kind  of  soft  like  to  me  in  all  ways,  and  that  went  to 
my  heart,  I  kin  tell  ye. 

"  Grub  was  scarce  with  us;  we  had  flour  enuf,  but 
meat  was  scarce.  Yank  wouldn't  eat  no  bacon;  said 
he  was  afeered  of  biles ;  I  knew  he  only  did  it  so  there 
would  be  more  for  me.  I  couldn't  stand  it  to  see  him 
going  it  on  only  bread,  for  we  didn't  have  no  coffee, 
nothing  but  flour  and  mighty  little  bacon.  I  wouldn't 
eat  the  bacon,  and  Yank  got  mad,  said  it  seemed  as 
if  the  devil  was  in  me  to  try  and  drive  him  to  eat 
bacon,  and  be  covered  from  head  to  foot  with  biles. 
He'd  be  damned  if  any  man  was  going  to  force  hog 
.down  him  when  the  idee  made  him  sick,  and  cavorted 
and  carried  on  so,  I  had  to  eat  it.  Ye  couldn't  do 
nothing  with  Yank.  And  one  night  we  had  only  a 
couple  of  blankits  each  and  'twas  cold.  I  was  a-lay- 
ing  awake  thinking  of  all  the  trouble  I  felt  was 
a-coming,  and  how  Yank  and  I  seemed  to  be  getting 
apart,  shivering  with  the  cold,  too.  I  heered  Yank 
coming  still  to  my  bunk,  and  he  put  a  blankit  on  me 
softly,  and  I  couldn't  hold  in  no  longer.  '  What  ye 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  97 

doing,  Yank?'  I  said.  'I'm  so  thundering  hot,' 
says  he,  '  I  was  going  to  throw  off  this  blankit,  and  I 
thought  ye  might  be  cold,  and  I  put  it  on  ye;  ye 
warn't  born  in  Maine,  and  ye  feel  the  cold. ' 

"  I  tried  hard  to  make  him  take  it  back,  and  lied 
to  him,  and  said  I  was  warm. 

"'How  cussed  contrary  ye  are  getting,  Zeb,'  he 
said.  '  "What's  the  matter  with  ye?  Ye  ain't  yerself 
any  more;  yer  so  dang  peevish.' 

"He  wouldn't  hear  to  nothing,  and  so  the  blankit 
stayed  with  me.  If  there  was  any  hard  end  to  the 
work  he  would  have  it,  and  if  I  said  anything  he  was 
so  short  and  cross,  and  so  it  went. 

"  One  day  he  said  to  me  something  'bout  my  work 
ing  in  the  summer,  and  I  said,  '  We'll  see  'bout  that 
when  the  summer  comes, '  and  Yank  says,  '  I  may 
go  East  this  summer.  Haven't  seen  my  folks  for  a 
long  time.'  He  warn't  thinking  'bout  his  folks,  and  I 
knew  it. 

1 '  The  winter  went  along,  and  every  paper  we  see 
things  were  gittin'  worse.  All  the  talk  of  seceding 
made  me  mad. 

"  'Twas  long  in  April,  nigh  the  first  of  May,  when 
a  man  come  by.  We  was  both  of  us  at  the  mouth  of 
the  shaft,  and  the  man  said  it  was  the  story  on  the 
outside  that  the  South  had  fired  on  some  government 
forts  down  there,  and  that  "  Old  Abe  "  had  called  for 
volunteers  to  go  and  fight.  Yank  questioned  him 
quiet  like  'bout  it  all,  but  the  man  didn't  know  more 
and  went  on. 

"  Both  on  us  knew  'twas  all  true. 

"  We  was  a-setting  on  a  timber  we  was  a-going  to 
let  down  the  shaft.  When  the  man  was  gone  I  see 
7 


98  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

the  fight  was  in  Yank's  eyes,  and  'twas  in  my  heart, 
too. 

"  Yank  put  his  hand  on  my  knee.  '  Zeb,'  said  he, 
'  this  means  me.  "We've  been  pardners  through  thick 
and  thin.  I  love  ye,  Zeb,  but  I  must  leave  ye.  Ye 
has  yer  idees,  I  have  mine.  I'm  going  to  the  States. 
Uncle  Sam  has  called  for  his  men  and  I'm  a-going  to 
his  call.  My  grandfather  fit  in  the  Revolution  and 
his  father  before  him  in  the  old  French  wars;  my 
father  was  with  Commodore  Porter  in  the  Essex,  and 
when  the  Stars  and  Stripes  are  going  to  the  fight  it 
ain't  in  my  blood  to  stay  behind  if  the  President  calls 
for  me  to  f oiler.  I  don't  say  nothing,  Zeb,  'bout 
what's  right  or  what's  wrong,  God  knows.  I  only 
think  I  know.  The  fight  is  on;  it's  my  President  that 
calls  me  to  go,  and  I  am  a-going.  Ye  are  sort  of 
Southern,  Zeb,  and  ye  don't  see  things  as  I  see  'em; 
and,  old  man,  it's  hard  to  leave  ye,  but  I'm  a-going. 
I  give  ye  all  my  interest  in  what  we've  got,  and  all 
good  be  with  ye,  Zeb. ' 

' '  I  warn't  never  mad  with  Yank  afore,  but  then  I 
was,  and  I  said,  '  Yank,  I'm  going  too.  It's  my 
country  and  my  flag,  and  my  President  calls,  and  he 
don't  call  twice  for  me,  if  I  am  from  Injianny  nigh 
the  river.  Ye  had  it  in  yer  mind,  though  ye  didn't 
say  it,  that  I  was  going  to  shirk  this  fight — me, 
Yank,  me,  who  ye  ought  to  know  by  this  time.  I've 
got  my  pride,  if  I  am  from  Injianny,  and  I  tell  ye  Inji 
anny  will  be  in  it  same  as  Maine.  Damn  it,  Yank,  this 
is  my  country,  same  as  it's  yours,  and  we'll  go  to 
gether,  pardners,  same  as  we've  always  been.  Don't 
ye  think  I've  got  no  feelings,  Yank  ?  I  claim  to  be  a 
man,  and  I'm  ready  to  do  a  man's  work.  I  see  the  work, 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  99 

and  I'm  going  to  do  it.  Ye've  hurt  me,  Yank,'  I  said; 
'  ye've  hurt  me,  me  who  ye  have  been  pardner  with 
so  long.  Did  ye  think  I  was  going  to  be  a  woman 
when  'twas  time  to  be  a  man?  Shame  on  ye  for  it.' 

"  With  that,  Yank  jumped  up  and  swore  and  hugged 
me. 

"'Why,  Zeb,'  he  says,  'it's  been  on  my  mind  all 
winter  that  ye  were  for  the  South  and  I've  rasseled 
with  the  idee  at  night,  and  I  thought,  "  Zeb's  a  man 
and  he  has  his  notions,  and  it  ain't  for  one  man  to  argy 
with  another  'bout  sich  a  thing,  it  is  or  it  isn't;  a  man 
has  a  mind  made  up,  he's  going  to  do  what  he  thinks 
is  the  squar  thing  to  do,  and  it's  no  thing  to  talk," 
but  I  thought  ye  were  for  the  South. ' 

"  '  The  South  be  damned,'  says  I,  '  and  the  North, 
too;  I'm  for  the  country,  and  the  old  flag.' 

"  Yank  was  like  a  boy,  he  was  so  glad,  and  he  said: 

"  '  Them  Southern  fellers  say  that  one  on  'em  can 
lick  five  on  us.  Well,  if  one  on  'em  tackle  us  both  and 
licks  us,  'twill  surprise  me  like  hell ; '  and  he  laffed, 
and  I  did  too,  for  I  knew  it  would  take  a  mighty  good 
man  to  lick  Yank  single-handed,  and  with  me  on  the 
outside  to  help,  I  didn't  believe  we'd  ever  find  the 
man  could  do  it.  We  was  all  so  glad  to  be  all  friends 
agin  same  as  before. 

"  Yank  said,  '  We'll  quit  this  dang  hole  now,'  and 
we  did.  We  dropped  the  tools  right  there,  and  for 
all  I  know  they're  there  now.  We  got  up  the  bosses, 
we  had  one  each,  and  two  pack-hosses.  There 
warn't  no  railroad  then,  and  if  there  had  been  we 
hadn't  no  money,  and  we  made  it  up  we'd  cross  the 
plains  to  lowy,  and  inlist  in  the  first  place  we  could. 
We  had  only  a  little  grub,  and  we  didn't  know  how 


100  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

we'd  make  it  so  far;  we  reckoned,  then  it  was  'bout 
the  first  of  May,  we  could  make  lowy  by  August,  but 
how  was  we  to  get  grub  ? 

"We  talked  all  over  and  didn't  see  noway.  At 
last,  Yank,  he  says,  '  Dang  it,  Zeb,  we've  got  the  call, 
and  we  ain't  going  to  hang  back  'cause  we  ain't  got 
grub.  We  hain't  no  money  to  go  by  sea,  and  it's  a 
long  pull  to  the  "Bay,"  anyway;  we've  got  to  go 
'cross  the  plains.  We'll  go  on  what  grub  we've  got, 
and  take  chances  on  getting  more. '  Next  morning 
we  packed  up  and  started. 

"  It's  an  all-fired  ride  to  the  States.  We  was  in  a 
hurry  to  git  there,  and  the  time  seemed  longer  than 
it  was.  We  made  it  though ;  got  to  lowy. 

' '  We  come  into  a  little  town  on  foot.  We'd  swapped 
off  the  outfit  for  grub  on  the  way,  from  time  to  time ; 
a  hoss  here  and  another  one  there,  and  one  died,  and 
our  guns  had  to  go,  too.  It  was  nigh  September,  and, 
as  I  said,  we  come  into  a  little  place  in  lowy  on  foot, 
hungry  and  ragged  and  pretty  well  beat  out.  An  old 
man  was  standing  at  the  gate  of  one  of  them  little 
white  houses  with  a  white  fence  round  it,  grass  and 
sun-flowers  and  hollyhocks  in  the  yard,  and  a  trail 
through  the  grass  to  the  door,  straight  as  a  gun-barrel. 

"  '  Ye  look  like  ye  was  used  up,'  said  the  old  man. 
'Yes,'  said  Yank,  'ye've  hit  the  bull's  eye,  uncle. 
We've  come  a  long  way  to  go  for  soldiers,  and  we 
want  to  know  where  we  can  jine. ' 

' '  At  that  the  old  man  made  us  come  in,  and  drew 
a  big  bottle  on  us,  and  we  must  drink,  and  then  we 
must  eat,  and  we  must  stay  with  him  over  night,  and 
his  old  woman — well,  she  was  that  kind  we  must  eat 
this  and  that,  and  she  wouldn't  take  no  back  talk 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  101 

from  us.  She  told  us  how  she  had  three  boys  in  the 
army,  and  read  us  a  letter  that  come  that  day  from 
one. 

"  There  was  going  to  be  a  meeting  that  night,  and 
speaking — a  Union  meeting,  they  called  it — and  there 
was  a  rigiment  of  men  raising,  and  at  the  meeting 
volunteers  could  go  up  and  sign,  and  the  old  man  said 
there  would  be  a  fine  lot  of  boys  in  it,  and  that  the 
kernel  was  a  man  he  knew,  and  he  was  going  to  be 
there,  and  he  was  a  good  man,  but  he  thought  he  was 
too  quiet  like  to  be  much  of  a  fighter. 

"  So  when  we  had  washed  up  and  had  supper,  we 
went  with  the  old  folks  into  the  village.  We  was 
kind  of  'shamed,  for  we  looked  like  the  devil;  ragged 
we  was,  and  our  buckskin  shirts  pretty  black,  but  we 
warn't  dirty,  for  we  were  bound  to  sign  with  clean 
hands,  anyway.  As  we  went  down  the  street  there 
was  a  band  a-playin'  in  front  of  a  church,  and  into 
it  we  went  with  a  lot  of  folks  who  looked  at  us  like 
we  was  Injuns.  Pretty  soon  ye  couldn't  get  a  card 
in  edgewise,  the  house  was  that  full.  A  parson 
prayed,  and  then  some  men  spoke  all  about  how  the 
Union  must  be  kept  solid,  and  asking  the  young  men 
to  jine  the  company  that  was  making  up  in  the  village, 
and  every  once  in  a  while  the  band  would  play 
'  Yankee  Doodle, '  and  'The  Star  Spangled  Banner,' 
and  some  young  gals,  putty  as  picturs,  sang  war  songs, 
and  it  all  made  the  blood  come  and  go,  I  tell  ye,  Bud. 

"  Then  a  little  man  got  up  and  said  how  he  was  to 
be  the  kernel  of  the  rigiment;  and  while  he  warn't 
much  of  a  talker,  his  heart  was  in  the  fight  and  he 
meant  to  be  as  good  a  soldier  as  it  was  in  him  to  be. 
I  took  to  the  feller  right  off.  I  see  he  was  a  man,  if  he 


102  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

was  small ;  and  Yank  he  chucked  me  and  says,  '  He's 
our  man,  Zeb. ' 

11  Yank  knew  a  man  when  he  saw  one,  and  he  sized 
the  little  feller  up  then,  and  I  tell  ye  he  sized  him  up 
right,  too.  But  everybody  was  kind  of  sneering  at 
the  man,  and  a  feller  behind  says  in  a  low  voice,  '  That 
little  cuss  is  no  good.  Looks  like  he'd  run  better  than 
he'd  fight.' 

"  '  If  that's  your  idee,  it  ain't  mine,'  Yank  said  to 
him. 

"  Then  they  put  a  big  paper  on  a  little  table  that 
was  under  the  pulpit,  and  the  kernel  says,  '  Who's 
the  first  man  to  put  his  name  down  for  his  country  ? ' 

"'I  am,'  says  Yank,  'and  my  pardner,  Zeb,  he's 
with  me, '  and  up  he  goes  with  me  and  down  we  put 
our  names  on  the  papers. 

"  '  Where  are  ye  from  ?  '  says  the  kernel. 

"  l  We've  come  from  Nevady,'  says  Yank. 

"  '  How'd  ye  get  here?  '  says  the  kernel. 

"  '  We  heer'd  the  call  and  we  saddled  up  and  come/ 
says  Yank. 

"'What,'  says  the  kernel,  'ye  rode  on  hossback 
two  thousand  miles,  to  inlist  ?  ' 

"  '  Yes,'  says  Yank.  '  We  rode  and  we  hoofed  it. 
We  know  we're  strangers,  but  ye'll  find  we've  come 
for  business.  No  better  man  ever  stood  than  Zeb, 
here,  my  pardner,  and  I'll  try  and  keep  up  with  him.' 

"  I  was  'shamed  to  hear  Yank  say  so  'bout  me, 
and  I  said,  '  Yank's  a  better  man  nor  me.  Why, 
Yank — there  ain't  no  more  sandier  man  in  all  the 
world  than  him.  We'll  do  our  duty,  both  on  us,  to  the 
country  and  to  the  flag.  Ye  don't  know  us,  but  try  us. ' 

' ' '  Then, '  says  the  kernel,  '  here  are  two  men  that 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  103 

heer'd  the  call  in  the  desert,  and  they've  come  two 
thousand  miles  to  inlist.  Come,  boys,  show  them  that 
there  are  men  in  lowy,  too. ' 

"  That's  all  he  said,  but  the  way  he  said  it  beat  all 
the  speeches  that  was  made,  and  the  young  men  rose 
up  all  over  the  church,  and  come  up  and  put  their 
names  down,  and  there  was  nigh  to  sixty  come  up, 
but  the  kernel  says,  '  That  ain't  enough.  I  won't 
leave  here  this  night  till  the  roll  has  a  hundred  names 
on  it. ' 

"Then  up  gits  the  parson,  and  a  gritty,  young- 
looking  fellow  he  was,  and  he  says,  '  There's  a  time 
for  men  to  preach  and  there  comes  a  time  for  men  to 
fight.  The  call  of  the  country,  that  two  thousand  miles 
away,  beyond  the  plains  and  the  mountains  these  men 
heer'd,  has  been  sounding  in  my  heart  for  months, 
and  to-night  I  answer,  "  Yes,  Father  Abraham,  I'm 
a-coming, ' '  '  and  up  he  goes  and  signs  the  roll. 

' '  I  thought  the  church  would  bust  with  the  cheer 
ing,  and  men  went  up  two  or  three  at  a  time  and 
signed,  and  the  men  cheered,  and  women  were  a-cry- 
ing,  and  in  ten  minutes  the  roll  was  full  and  more — a 
hundred  and  seven  names. 

"It  warn't  many  days  afore  the  rigiment  was  a 
full  thousand  men  strong.  The  parson  was  made 
captin  of  the  company  we  was  in,  and  the  kernel 
he  says  to  Yank,  '  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Yank  ? ' 
and  Yank  says,  '  Kernel,  I  wants  to  carry  the  flag 
and  I  want  Zeb  with  me,  and  Zeb  and  I'll  carry  her 
where  she's  got  to  go,  and  we'll  stay  with  her. '  So 
the  kernel  he  made  Yank  color-sargeant  and  puts  me 
in  the  color-guard  so  as  to  be  near  him. 

"I  always  thought  the  Stars  and  Stripes  made  a 


104  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

fine  show.  I  knew  it  was  my  country's  flag  and  my 
flag,  but  bless  ye,  Bud,  1  didn't  know  nothing  afore 
'bout  what  that  flag  is,  and  what  it  means,  and  how  a 
man  gets  to  love  it  and  be  proud  to  his  death  of  it; 
how  it  comes  to  mean  everything  ;  how  it  stands  for 
everything  a  man  loves;  how  it  is  a  man's  pride  and 
his  glory.  His  father  and  his  grandfather  and  so 
back  had  it  for  their  flag;  all  on  'em  lived  under 
it,  some  on  'em  fought  under  it,  some  on  'em  died 
under  it. 

"  "When  ye  were  a  small  boy  it  meant  trainings  and 
fairs,  and  Fourth  of  July,  and  everything  that  was 
out  of  the  common  run.  There  never  was  no  jollifica 
tion  that  ye  didn't  see  it  a- waving  overhead;  round 
the  fire  at  night  yer  father  told  ye  'bout  the  last  war, 
and  ye  could  see  in  yer  little  cub  mind  the  flag  a-flyin', 
and  hear  the  drums  and  fifes  a-playin',  as  yer  father, 
long  with  all  the  rest,  charged  the  Britishers  at 
Lundy's  Lane  or  held  the  cotton  bales  agin  'em  at 
New  Orleans ;  or  yer  old  grandfather  made  the  tears 
come  in  yer  little  eyes  as  he  told  how,  when  he  was  a 
boy,  at  Valley  Forge,  in  cold  and  starvation,  his 
frozen  feet  and  hungry  belly  was  warm  and  full  when 
day  come,  and  he  could  see  the  flag  a- waving;  and 
yer  little  heart  got  big  as  he  told  the  story  how  at 
Yorktown  the  men  who  come  to  fight  us  marched 
prisoners  before  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  saluting  of  'em. 
Ye  began  to  be  a  man  then,  and  the  flag  come  to 
mean  something. 

"  But  ye  don't  know  nothing  'bout  it,  Bud,  till  ye 
foller  it;  ye  gits  to  love  it.  It  ain't  a  pretty  piece 
of  cloth,  the  totem  of  yer  tribe,  it's  all  there  is  of 
everything;  it's  country,  it's  memry,  it's  hope.  All 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  105 

that's  good  and  squar  in  ye  comes  to  love  it.  Yer 
wet  and  tired  and  hungry  a-f ollering  of  it ;  ye  lose  yer 
blood  and  yer  life  for  it  and  it's  all  a  pleasure. 

"  It's  a-waving  in  the  air  so  much  cloth  at  so  much 
a  yard ;  it  lies  in  yer  heart,  all  the  gold  and  the  silver  in 
the  mountains ;  all  the  ships  on  the  sea ;  all  the  farms, 
and  the  towns ;  and  all  the  sweat  and  blood  of  them 
that's  dead  and  gone,  the  joy  and  pride  of  them  alive, 
the  hope  and  cheer  of  them  to  come. 

u  Well,  Yank,  he  carried  the  flag,  and  I  was  with 
him,  with  a  few  as  fit  men  as  ye  ever  see  to  guard  it. 

"  Our  company  was  '  C  '  Company,  and  the  colors  is 
always  nigh  '  C  '  Company,  so  all  our  boys  as  we  were 
in  line  was  'long  side. 

"The  parson  who  we  made  captin  was  a  fine, 
straight  young  man.  He  was  like  an  egg,  the  white 
all  mild  and  pious  and  good,  and  the  yelk  all  fight. 
Dang'd  if  I  hain't  thought  a  heap  of  parsons  since 
I  knew  him.  He'd  preach  like  Billy  be  damn'd  and 
fight  like  hell  the  same  day;  he  was  an  all  'round 
man,  I  tell  ye,  but  all  through  he  stuck  to  his  trade,  as 
I  likes  to  see  a  man  do ;  never  no  swearing.  I  never 
could  see  how  he  did  it;  it's  such  a  real  comfort  to 
cuss  sometimes  and  it  comes  so  nateral  to  a  man. 

"Well,  we  was  sent  down  into  Kentucky  and  into 
Tennessee;  we  marched  a  many  miles  and  had  many 
tight  fights,  and  Yank  was  hit  a  couple  of  times,  and 
I,  too,  light  like,  nothing  to  count.  We  was  at  Pitts 
burgh  Landing  and  all  them  fights,  and  we  was  proud 
of  the  fellows  we  was  with.  The  kernel  he  was  a 
fighter  from  way  back,  though  he  was  so  small  and 
quiet,  and  the  captin — the  parson — there  warn't  no 
nervier  man,  and  all  the  boys  stood  right  into  the  col- 


106  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

lar.  They  all  got  to  know  Tank,  and  nobody  warn't 
afeer'd  'bout  the  flag  being  carried  by  a  man. 

"Yank  was  one  of  them  men  who  put  his  whole 
body,  head,  belly,  and  boots  into  anything  he  did; 
a-prospecting,  a-hunting,  a-playin'  a  game,  going  to 
preachings,  'twas  all  the  same,  and  he  was  all  in  that 
war.  He  didn't  talk  nothing  else,  he  didn't  think 
nothing  else. 

"  What  come  hard  to  me  was  to  be  ordered  here  and 
there,  and  be  under  somebody  all  the  time,  but  that 
didn't  faze  Yank  a  bit. 

"'Zeb,'  he  used  to  say,  'ye  must  get  the  right 
savvy  of  this  business.  A  ship  has  a  captin  and  she 
has  mates,  and  in  some  ships  some  on  'em  are  poor 
men.  Ye  know  yer  a  better  man  nor  them,  but  ye've 
got  to  obey  orders;  ye  ain't  sailin'  the  ship,  yer  just 
doing  what  yer  told  to  do,  that's  yer  business.  It's 
the  same  here;  I  do  my  business,  and  ye  do  yours, 
and  it  don't  consarn  ye,  nor  I,  nothing  else.' 

"  All  his  idee  was  the  flag,  and  we  all  see  it,  and 
'twas  our  idee  too. 

"  So  it  went  along,  marching  and  fighting,  big  fights 
and  little  ones,  long  marches  and  short  ones,  till  it 
come  we  were  under  General  Thomas  at  Chattanoogy. 
There  was  a  sizable  hill  and  the  Johnnies  was  on  the 
hill.  In  the  morning  when  we  come  up  to  the  ker 
nel's  tent  to  get  the  colors,  the  kernel  himself  come 
out  and  give  the  flag  to  Yank,  and  he  says,  'It's 
going  to  be  a  hot  day,  and  please  God  we'll  have  the 
colors  top  o'  the  hill  'fore  night. ' 

"  '  If  there's  a  show,  the  flag  will  be  there  all  right, 
Kernel;  Zeb,  he'll  carry  it  there,  if  I  don't,'  says 
Yank. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  107 

"  '  We  mayn't  either  of  us  git  there,  but  the  rigi- 
mint  will,  Yank, '  says  the  kernel ;  '  I  feel  it  some 
how.' 

"  '  I  hain't  no  other  idee,'  says  Yank. 

' '  I  never  was  so  afore.  I  looked  at  Yank,  and  he 
looked  kind  o'  strange,  and  I  felt  something  was  a-com- 
ing.  We  had  it  all  put  up  from  the  first  day  Yank  car 
ried  the  flag.  Says  he  to  me :  '  When  I  drop,  Zeb,  you 
take  the  flag ;  if  ye  leave  me  a-dyin'  the  flag  must  go  on. 
If  ye've  got  anything  to  say,  "  Good-by  "  or  "  God 
bless  ye, ' '  say  it  now ;  for  if  I  drop,  the  flag  must  go, 
mind  that,  Zeb.  I'd  die  a-cussing  ye  if  ye  stopped  a 
second  for  me.  Yer  my  pardner — dang  it,  Zeb,  yer  my 
brother — and  man  to  man  I  want  ye  to  say  after  me 
these  words:  "  When  ye,  Yank,  drops  and  can't  go  on 
or  hold  up  the  flag,  I'll  take  it  and  go  on.  If  I  see  yer 
dying  I  won't  stop  to  say  a  word  or  nothing.  I'll 
take  the  flag  and  leave  3^6  where  ye  lie.  I'll  carry  it 
and  guard  it,  and  die  with  it  if  so  be  I  must.  So  help 
me  God  Almighty!"  Hold  up  yer  right  hand,'  he 
says,  '  and  say  them  very  words  after  me. ' 

"'Oh,  Yank,'  I  said,  'I  couldn't  leave  ye  so,  I 
couldn't.  I,  yer  long  pardner.' 

"'What,'  says  Yank,  and  them  gray  eyes  of  his 
looked  like  a  cougar's  in  the  dark,  and  his  voice  was  so 
hard  and  changed ;  '  ye'd  go  agin  me  when  I  was 
a-dyin'  ?  Ye'd  refuse  to  give  me  comfort  at  such  a 
time?  Ye'd  have  me  go  afore  God  a-cussin'  ye? 
Ye'd  leave  the  flag,  my  flag,  to  any  one  else,  or  a-lay- 
ing  on  the  ground  where  I  dropped  it,  while  ye 
played  the  baby  with  me?  Ain't  there  any  man  in 
ye,  Zeb  ?  Ain't  there  any  friend  in  ye,  Zeb  ?  Ain't 
there  any  pride  in  ye  for  me  ?  When  I  asked  for  to 


108  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

carry  this  flag,  'twas  because  I  thought  I  had  a  man 
that  would  take  it  when  my  hands  couldn't  hold  it  no 
longer;  that,  if  so  be  I  was  a-dyin',  my  eyes  would 
see  him  going  on  with  it.  Didn't  we  go  into  this 
fight  'cause  we  felt  it  was  a  duty  and  we  must  ?  The 
man  that's  got  the  flag  he's  got  his  duty  to  do  to  his 
country;  the  flag  has  got  to  be  carried,  and  the  man 
who  carries  it  can't  stop  to  palaver  over  nobody's 
carkiss. ' 

"  t  Oh,  Yank,'  I  said,  '  I  sees  my  duty,  and  I'll  do 
it,  but  'twould  come  rough  the  way  ye  put  it.' 

"  '  Yer  a  man,'  Yank  said,  '  and  yer  a  woman,  but 
I  know  ye;  say  them  words.'  And  I  held  up  my 
right  hand  and  said  the  words  after  him. 

"  When  we  first  got  into  fights,  I  was  afeered  for 
Yank,  but  we  had  been  in  a  many  of  'em,  and  only 
two  shots  had  hit  him,  and  only  one,  me,  and  all  on 
'em  no  'count,  much  more  nor  scratches,  and  some 
how  my  fear  'bout  him  had  got  over;  but  that  morn 
ing  I  felt  something  was  a-coming. 

"  We  didn't  have  much  to  do  all  morning,  drawn  up 
in  a  line  to  go  in,  and  waiting  orders.  The  battle  had 
been  going  on  for  a  couple  of  hours;  we  could  see 
some  of  it  and  hear  more,  for  the  firing  was  heavy  to 
the  right  of  us,  and  the  cannons  was  a-roaring. 

"  We  was  standing  there  and  lying  on  the  ground, 
Yank  and  me  a-smoking.  The  kernel  had  rode  the 
line  talking  to  the  captins,  and  he  come  where  we 
was. 

"  '  Yank,'  he  says, ( and  ye  too,  Zeb,  I've  mentioned 
ye  both  in  reports,  but  I  never  did  tell  ye  what  I 
couldn't  say  then,  and  what  I  have  wanted  to  say  to 
ye  both  for  a  long  time.  Ye  did  more  to  raise  this 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  109 

rigiment  than  I  did,  and  all  along  ye  have  been  good 
men,  and  I  have  to  thank  ye  both.  It  isn't  my  fault, 
Yank,  that  yer  not  a  commissioned  officer,'  and 
'twas  so ;  for  twice  he  had  Yank  to  be  an  officer,  but 
Yank  wouldn't  have  it;  his  idee  was  all  to  carry  the 
flag.  We  was  proud  to  hear  the  kernel  say  that,  for 
he  warn't  no  man  to  talk. 

"We  was  a-smoking  when  a  young  officer  come 
a-riding  up  and  says  something  to  the  kernel,  and 
the  order  come  sharp  to  the  rigiment,  putting  us  into 
column,  and  we  marched  up  over  a  rise  of  ground  and 
past  some  woods  where  we  could  see  the  hill,  '  Mis 
sionary  Ridge  '  was  the  name  of  it.  Yank  took  the 
pipe  from  his  mouth,  a  short  clay  pipe  it  was,  and 
give  it  to  me.  '  Keep  that,  Zeb,'  he  said,  and  I  put 
it  in  my  pocket.  It's  in  my  bag  now,"  the  old  man 
said.  "  I've  kept  it.  We  could  see  the  hill  all  spotted 
here  and  there  with  rigimints  and  brigades,  some  high 
up  and  some  low  down,  and  the  smoke  coming  from 
their  guns  on  both  sides.  The  trees  hid  what  was  going 
on  in  places,  and  then  there  would  be  clearings  where 
we  could  see  putty  good. 

"  The  Johnnies  had  two  or  three  lines  of  earthworks, 
and  the  fighting  was  a-going  on  where  the  lower  line 
was  mostly,  but  in  one  place  we  could  see  the  lower 
line  was  carried,  and  our  boys  was  up  agin  the  next 
one. 

"  The  other  rigimints  of  our  brigade  had  come  up, 
and  we  was  put  in  line  agin,  and  right  in  front  of  us, 
and  perhaps  a  half  a  mile  away,  the  hill  began  to  rise 
up  sharp,  and  along  the  steep  side  we  could  see  two 
lines  of  dirt  where  the  rifle-pits  was,  and  behind  'em 
we  could  see  the  tops  of  the  baynits  and  the  flag- 


110  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

staffs  of  the  men  behind,  when  the  sun  came  through 
the  clouds  to  shine  on  'em.  Everywhere  else,  'cept  op 
posite  where  we  was,  we  could  see  either  the  men  or 
the  smoke  they  made,  but  there  warn't  no  smoke  or 
show  of  fight  in  front  of  us.  It  was  our  place. 

"Well,  as  I  said,  the  line  was  formed,  and  pretty 
soon  the  orders  come  to  go  ahead,  and  we  marched 
toward  the  hill.  The  cannons  was  a-firing,  but  they 
didn't  do  much  harm;  ye  can't  catch  the  range  on  a 
cannon  like  ye  can  on  a  rifle. 

"We  come  up  to  the  front  of  the  hill  in  good 
shape,  and  then  they  halted  us  a  bit  to  take  breath 
and  to  straighten  the  line. 

"  The  hill  above  us  was  steep,  and  the  rifle-pits  we 
could  see  here  and  there  the  lines  of  between  the  trees, 
seemed  right  over  us;  and  when  we  could  see  them  at 
all,  there  was  the  Johnnies  back  of  'em,  with  their  gun- 
barrels  slanting  down  at  us,  and  'specially  where  we 
was  a-going  there  was  a  clear  strip  of  ground  clean  up 
to  the  pits ;  not  a  tree,  hardly  a  bush  a  rabbit  could  get 
behind.  I  never  see  no  sich  place  for  men  to  go  agin. 
Yank,  he  says  to  me,  '  Zeb,  mind  what  ye  swore  to, 
and  if  I  don't  get  the  flag  to  the  top  ye  will.'  '  I'll 
keep  my  word,  Yank,'  says  I,  'but  we'll  get  there 
together,  or  it's  as  like  I'll  drop  as  will  ye.' 

"  I  hadn't  much  idee  we'd  either  of  us  get  there,  it 
was  such  a  dang  tough  place. 

"  The  kernel  he  see  how  it  was,  and  tried  how  he 
could  manage  it  to  get  us  to  each  side  of  the  clear 
strip,  but  there  warn't  room.  The  other  rigiments 
were  up  agin  ours  on  either  end  of  our  line,  and  there 
warn't  no  time;  for  while  he  was  a-studying  on  it 
come  the  order  to  forward  up  the  hill. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  111 

"  The  kernel  took  his  place  just  behind  the  color- 
guard,  and  most  of  '  C  '  Company  and  the  next  was  in 
the  clear  strip,  and  we  with  the  colors  'bout  in  the 
middle  of  it. 

"  In  the  picturs  ye  see  of  battles,  Bud,  ye'll  always 
see  the  gineral  or  the  kernel  a-riding  on  ahead  and 
a-waving  of  his  sword  and  a-calling  to  the  men  to 
come  on.  The  fellers  who  made  them  picturs  don't 
know  nothing.  The  officers'  place  is  behind  the  men, 
and  it's  right  and  proper  it's  so.  When  it  gets  hot 
and  mixed  a  bit,  the  officers  is  sometimes  ahead ;  but 
when  the  thing  goes  on  right,  the  men  are  in  front  and 
every  officer  has  his  place  behind. 

"We'd  gone  up  the  hill  till  we  was,  say,  'bout 
three  hundred  yards  from  the  Johnnies  behind  the  pits ; 
it  was  hard  climbing,  enough  to  blow  us  a  little,  and 
the  drums  and  fifes  stopped  playing,  and  ye  only  heer'd 
the  officers  a-saying,  '  Close  up,  close  up, '  and  trying 
to  keep  the  line  straight. 

' '  We  was  expecting  hell  would  pop  every  second, 
but  it  didn't.  As  we  was  'bout  three  hundred  yards 
or  so  from  'em,  as  I  say,  we  heer'd  the  officers  a-call 
ing  to  the  Johnnies,  and  up  they  got  and  let  us  have  it, 
but  though  it  knocked  many  a  feller,  it  warn't  so  bad, 
we  was  so  under  'em  like.  Then  comes  the  order  to 
'  Charge,'  and  at  the  hill  we  went,  the  shots  coming 
down  on  us  like  hail  stones  and  the  men  a-falling 
fast.  I  see  Yank  drop  his  arm  like,  and  I  said,  '  yer 
hit.' 

"  '  'Tain't  nothing,'  he  says,  'didn't  hit  no  bone.' 
Just  then  come  the  order  from  the  kernel  to  '  Fire, '  and 
we  picked  'em  off  the  top  of  the  rifle-pits  like  they  was 
crows  on  a  fence.  Then  it  was  '  Load  '  again.  *  Hold 


112  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

yer  fire,'  he  says  to  our  company;  and  the  next,  '  Let 
no  man  fire  till  he  gets  the  order; '  but  the  other  com 
panies  was  a-putting  in  the  lead  fast  as  they  could. 

"We'd  got  up  to,  say,  sixty  or  seventy  yards,  perhaps 
the  half  on  us  was  left,  and  there  was  some  rocks  in  a 
line;  'twas  like  an  old  fence,  and  the  ground  kind  of 
sheltered  us  a  little.  We  was  halted  there  and  dropped 
to  what  cover  we  could  find.  The  breath  was  pretty 
well  out  of  us  and  we  was  a-ketching  of  it  again. 

"Yank  was  a-bleeding  and  I  put  a  handkerchief 
round  his  arm.  I  could  see  the  ground  behind  us 
spotted  with  men  down  and  dead.  The  kernel's  horse 
was  dead,  and  he  a- walking  and  a-resting  nigh  us 
behind  a  rock.  He  crawled  out  a  bit,  and  he  says, 
'  See  yer  all  loaded  and  we'll  go  over  the  pits  next  trip. 
Yank, '  he  says,  '  when  we  charge,  do  ye  go  over  the 
pits  and  we'll  all  be  with  ye. ' 

1 '  I  could  see  the  ends  of  the  rigiment  was  close  on 
to  the  pits  on  both  sides  of  us,  but  there  was  nothing 
but  grass  between  us  and  the  Johnnies,  and  right 
straight  up  it  was.  We'd  a-rested  two  or  three  min 
utes  or  so,  the  bullets  a-cracking  agin  the  rocks  and 
picking  a  man  now  and  then  who  couldn't  cover. 
( Zeb, '  says  Yank,  to  me,  '  there's  a  rock  a  little  to 
the  left  on  us  nigh  the  pits,  and  there  the  earth  ain't 
thrown  so  high;  I'll  make  for  that  and  ye  all  rush 
over  with  me. ' 

"  There  was  only  three  of  the  color-guard  left,  but 
'twas  all  the  same.  Nigh  us  was  Jim  Jackson  and  Dan 
Finder  and  a  lot  of  other  sandy  men.  I  passed  the 
word  to  'em  and  the  others,  and  the  captin — he'd 
wormed  'long  'till  he  was  with  us — he  passed  the  word 
to  the  company  to  head  for  that  pint  in  the  rifle-pits. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  113 

Then  come  the  kernel's  voice  sharp  and  loud,  and  we 
stood  up  in  front  of  the  rock  and  got  into  line  a-cheer- 
ing.  Up  rose  the  Johnnies  for  a  volley  at  us,  and  we 
pulled  trigger  at  the  kernel's  '  Fire. ' 

"Lord,  how  we  downed  'em!  'Forward,  double 
quick,  charge ! '  cried  the  kernel,  and  we  went  for 
'em  on  the  run,  but  they  kept  a-giving  it  to  us  quick 
and  hot.  Jackson  dropped,  and  Finder's  brains  spurted 
in  my  face,  but  we  made  the  rock  and  got  on  to  the 
top  of  the  earthwork.  Then  the  Johnnies  come  hand 
to  hand  with  us.  The  captin  and  the  kernel  and  may 
be  a  dozen  more  was  there,  but  we  couldn't  budge  the 
solid  line  of  men,  and  we  was  a-dropping  fast.  There 
warn't  no  time  to  load — 'twas  hand  to  hand.  The 
captin  and  the  kernel's  sword  was  everywhere;  my 
baynit  I  broke  in  a  man's  breast.  The  kernel  fell, 
shot  in  the  head.  Yank  planted  the  colors  behind 
him  in  the  soft  ground,  and  caught  up  Billy  Lee's  gun 
when  he  was  run  through,  and  he  and  me  we  cleared 
the  spot  round  us  with  our  muskits.  We  swung  'em 
like  they  was  clubs.  Yank  was  a  stout  man  and  I  was 
fair,  and  many  a  time  the  heads  would  crack  when 
we  brought  the  gun-barrels  down  on  'em. '  'Twarn't  a 
minute,  but  I  see  the  captin  run  through,  and  Yank 
and  I  was  alone. 

"  '  Give  'em  hell,  Zeb! '  he  cried,  and  I  never  see  no 
man  like  him  then.  His  eyes  was  a-blazing,  the  flag 
behind  him,  and  his  back  agin  the  staff.  He  got  a 
shot  in  the  leg,  and  he  had  to  drop  on  his  knees.  I 
caught  it  in  the  neck  and  another  in  my  shoulder,  and 
a  baynit  pricked  me  in  the  side,  but  still  we  kept 
'em  off. 

"  A  big  feller  had  been  a- working  closer  to  us,  a 
8 


114  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

long-haired  cuss,  and  he  whips  out  a  six-shooter  and 
p'ints  it  at  Yank.  There  was  a  man  on  me,  but  I 
caught  him  with  the  heel  of  the  gun,  and  I  brought 
the  barrel  down  on  the  long-haired  feller  and  smashed 
his  head  in,  but  'twas  too  late,  Bud,  'twas  too  late; 
his  gun  went  off  and  took  Yank  in  the  head. 

"  '  The  flag,  Zeb,'  he  said,  and  he  was  gone.  I 
warn't  no  man,  then,  I  was  a  devil.  I  knew  our  fel 
lers  begun  a-getting  up  to  me.  I  can't  'member  no 
more,  but  they  said  I  caught  up  the  flag  and  jumped 
agin  the  Johnnies  like  a  cougar  from  a  tree.  Where 
we  was — though  'twarn't  no  time,  I  'spose,  we  was  on 
the  top — was  the  only  place  in  the  line  that  warn't  car 
ried,  and  when  our  boys  had  got  both  sides  they  closed 
down  on  the  place,  and  so  just  as  I  took  the  flag, 
they  come  in  like  bees  and  dro\Te  the  crowd  agin  us 
a-surging  up  the  hill.  But  I  was  after  'em,  and  all 
was,  and  up  we  went  agin  the  next  line,  and  I  over 
it  and  the  boys  a-follerin' ;  all  I  knew  was,  I  was  a 
carryin'  of  the  flag.  I  got  on  top  with  the  flag, 
Yank's  flag,  and  then  I  dropped. 

"  'Twas  a  great  battle,  and  there  was  lots  like  me, 
a- wounded,  and  I  come  to  in  a  big  hospitil  tent.  I 
put  out  my  hand  a-f eeling  for  Yank — we  always  slept 
under  the  same  blankits.  l  Yank, '  I  called,  and  the 
doctor  of  my  rigiment  he  was  nigh,  and  he  sot  down 
on  the  bed,  and,  '  Zeb, '  he  says,  '  Yank's  gone  out. ' 

"  Then  it  all  come  to  me,  and  I  says,  '  Out  of  the 
world ;  he's  gone  to  heaven. '  And  I  was  that  weak  I 
cried  like  a  baby;  but  he  give  me  some  stuff  and  I 
dozed  off.  I  come  to  myself  right  in  a  day  or  so  more, 
and  I  knew  I'd  have  to  go  it  alone.  Yank  was  gone. 
I  didn't  care  to  live,  first  off,  and  then  the  idee  come 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  115 

to  me  how  I  was  kinder  to  carry  out  Yank's  notions, 
and  I  spruced  up.  '  Yes,  Yank,'  I  said,  '  I'll  see  the 
thing  through,  and  I  won't  be  easy  till  the  flag  that 
was  yer  pride  has  it's  own  agin. ' 

"There  was  lots  of  the  boys  'round  me.  The 
captin  was  two  or  three  beds  away,  a-gitting  on  right 
smart,  and  he  told  me  how  it  all  was. 

"  The  major  come  in  and  he  said,  as  how  the  rigi- 
ment  was  cut  up,  we  was  a-going  into  camp  till  we 
got  some  more  boys  down  from  lowy  to  take  the 
places  of  them  that  was  killed.  They  was  all  kind  to 
me,  and  one  day  the  gineral  he  come  in  and  he  come 
down  the  line  of  beds. 

"  '  Where's  Zeb  ?  '  he  says,  and  comes  up  to  me  so 
sociable,  and  he  talked  like  I  was  an  officer,  and  calls 
me  'looytennant.'  'I'm  only  a  corporal,  Gineral,'  I 
says.  '  Yer  a  looytennant, '  he  says.  '  I  sent  in  yer 
name  when  I  see  ye  top  of  the  ridge  with  the  flag. ' 
The  tears  come  in  my  eyes. 

"  '  Gineral,'  I  says,  '  it's  kind  of  yer,  and  I  feel  it, 
I  do,  but  I  want  to  carry  the  flag ; '  and  I  told  him 
how  Yank  and  me  was  old  pardners,  and  how  his  idee 
was  all  to  carry  the  flag,  and  how  he  kinder  left  it  to 
me  to  carry  when  he  was  gone,  and  that  I  wanted  to 
carry  it,  if  he'd  let  me,  and  he  swore,  and  says:  '  Zeb, 
ye  shall.  No  man  shall  ever  carry  that  flag  so  long  as 
you  kin,  but  you ; '  and  he  took  my  hand  and  he  says, 
'  Such  men  as  you  and  yer  pardner  make  a  country 
great.'  Yes,  he  said  that.  '  Lord,'  says  I,  '  Gineral, 
I  didn't  do  nothing.  After  Yank  was  gone  I  was 
wild,  and  I  didn't  know  nothing.' 

"'Well,'  he  says,  'it's  wild  men  like  you  who 
make  us  ginirals  lots  of  glory  we  don 't  desarve ; '  and 


116  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

he  took  my  hand,  and  he  come  agin  two  or  three 
times,  and  we  was  mighty  friendly.  Dang'd  if  he 
didn't  send  me  grub  and  cigars  till  ye  couldn't  rest. 

"  After  a  while  I  was  all  right,  and  went  back  to 
the  rigiment,  and  they  give  me  the  flag  to  carry. 
Lord,  how  I  loved  it!  'Twas  all  torn  with  bullits  and 
the  staff  was  nicked  here  and  there,  and  I  remembred 
one  of  them  nicks  well,  but  the  cuss  that  made  it,  I  see 
the  kernel — 'twas  the  last  thing  he  did  afore  he  was 
killed — cut  him  down  with  his  sword  through  the 
skull. 

"  I  carried  the  flag  all  the  war.  I  was  hit  agin, 
but  not  so  bad  as  to  have  to  drop  it.  I  carried  it  with 
Sherman  on  the  March  to  the  Sea,  and  I  carried  it 
before  the  President  at  the  Great  Review  in  Washing 
ton;  and  when  I  left  it,  I  cut  a  piece  from  it — I  asked 
the  giniral,  and  he  said  I  might — that's  in  the  buckskin 
sack  I've  got.  How  I  hated  to  leave  it,  'count  of 
Yank !  But  Lord,  'twarn't  that  identical  piece  of  cloth 
he  was  stuck  on,  'twas  all  on  'em;  that  was  Yank's 
idee." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  great  storm  which  had  closed  the  old  and  opened 
the  new  year  had  been  succeeded  by  clear  and  beauti 
ful  weather,  and  all  through  January  and  into  Febru 
ary  no  snow  fell,  and  so  vigorously  had  work  been 
carried  on,  that  the  cut  was  now  nearly  under  the 
shaft.  The  pans  of  gravel  that  were  daily,  and  of 
late  several  times  a  day,  tried,  began  to  show  even 
more  gold  than  before.  One  morning,  Zeb,  who  was 
at  work  in  the  face  of  the  cut,  struck  his  pick  on  some 
thing  which  he  thought  he  recognized,  and  quickly 
scooping  out  with  his  shovel  the  dirt  his  pick  loosened, 
he  made  a  little  hole.  Bud,  who  was  wheeling  as  he 
broke  down  the  gravel,  had  just  come  up  with  the 
empty  wheelbarrow. 

"Bed-rock,  Bud,  bed-rock,"  cried  the  old  man,  as 
between  his  fingers  and  thumb  he  felt  of  a  gray  soft 
substance  on  the  end  of  his  shovel;  "  and  look  at  it, 
see  the  gold  in  it.  That's  it,  Bud.  We've  made  the 
riffle  at  last." 

Bud  saw  the  gray  matter  sprinkled  with  little  grains 
of  gold,  and  put  the  shovel  on  the  ground,  with  his 
finger  poking  its  contents.  "  Here's  big  gold,  Zeb," 
as  a  piece  the  size  of  a  ten -cent  piece  struck  his  eye, 
and  turning  with  it  in  his  hand,  he  saw  Zeb  sitting  on 
the  wheelbarrow,  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  very 
still.  "  Zeb,  old  man,"  he  said,  catching  at  him,  "  we 
have  it;  we  have  it." 


118  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

' '  Yes,  Bud, ' '  said  Zeb,  ' '  we  have  it,  G  od  be  thanked ! 
It's  struck  me  all  of  a  heap.  I've  been  in  Injianny, 
Bud.  Never  do  ye  doubt  them  signs  agin;  it's  awful 
to  do  it.  I  see  that  bear  and  them  cubs  where  I  see 
that  bed-rock.  Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  ye,  Bud.  '  God 
works  in  a  mysterious  way  his  wonders  to  perform. ' 
That  is  good  Bible,  and  that's  what  Yank  would  say 
if  he  was  here.  I'm  that  thankful  I'd  give  a  year  of 
my  life  if  I  could  think  what  to  say.  Ye  don't  know 
what  the  gold  means  to  me,  Bud.  Ye  can't  know 
how  from  my  toes  up  I  thank  God ;  and  dang  ornery 
cuss  that  I  am,  I  can't  think  of  no  fit  words  but 
'  Thank  ye,  thank  ye,  God  Almighty. '  All  them 
words  is  in  my  heart  that  my  tongue  can't  speak.  Oh, 
Lord,  if  Yank  was  here!  "  and  throwing  himself  on 
his  knees,  "  Thank  ye,  thank  ye,"  he  cried,  with  face 
uplifted,  and  with  such  simple  fervor  that,  rude  as  was 
the  prayers  wrung  from  lips  so  unused  to  supplication, 
or  to  acknowledgment  of  benefits,  it  seemed  to  Bud  to 
cleave  its  way  through  air  into  infinite  space  to  the 
ears  of  the  Infinite  Ruler  of  all. 

They  took  a  pan  from  the  bed-rock,  and  what  a  pan 
of  dirt  that  was!  The  grains,  big  and  little,  with 
occasional  pieces  as  large  as  a  pea,  lay  thick  when  the 
dirt  was  all  gone.  "  There's  ten  dollars  in  that — no, 
there's  seven  or  eight,"  said  Zeb;  and  they  panned 
another  pan  which  was  not  so  good,  but  had,  as  they 
estimated,  three  dollars  in  it,  and  another  that  had 
less  than  that,  and  another  that  was  nearly  as  good, 
and  others,  until  Zeb  said: 

"  It  is  there,  and  it  won't  get  away  from  us.  We'll 
put  up  sluice-boxes,  and  when  the  days  are  warm 
we'll  get  a  little  water  from  the  spring  and  we'll  make 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  119 

a  rocker,  and  between  using  the  water  when  the  snow 
is  melting,  and  the  rocker  when  we  hain't  much  water, 
we'll  be  taking  gold  out  every  day,  and  in  six  week's 
time  we'll  have  all  the  water  we  can  handle,  and  we'll 
sluice  out  a  fortune.  We've  got  it  rich,  Bud.  Even 
if  it's  only  a  pocket,  there's  big  money  in  it.  We've 
got  to  dig  that  ditch,  and  as  it  gets  warm — sometimes 
does  along  now — we'll  have  our  water.  "We  can't  do 
no  more  good  here;  let's  go  right  to  work  on  that 
ditch." 

Five  feet  of  snow  covered  the  ground,  and  it  was 
well  they  had,  before  it  came,  surveyed  the  line  of  the 
ditch,  for,  digging  in  the  snow,  they  could  find  the 
little  stakes  they  had  driven  in  the  ground  to  mark  its 
course.  In  ten  days  the  ditch  was  finished  and  ready 
for  the  first  melting  of  the  snow. 

During  this  time,  as  they  sat  at  evening  about  the 
fire,  Zeb's  happiness  was  overflowing.  "  Do  ye  know, 
Bud,"  he  said  one  night,  "I've  been  a- thinking  this 
money  has  got  to  go  somewhere,  and  life's  onsartin; 
but,  live  or  die,  my  sheer  of  this  money  has  got  to  go 
somewhere,  and  I  suppose  ye've  something  you  want 
to  do  with  yours.  What  I've  got  to  say  is  this:  If 
anything  happens  to  me,  I  want  you  to  send  my  sheer 
of  the  dust  we  git  to  Jim  Peasley,  Poseytown,  Inji- 
anny,  and  write  a  letter  to  him  how  it  was  I  pegged 
out,  if  so  be  I  do.  I'll  write  a  letter  and  give  ye, 
and  ye  kin  put  it  in  the  letter  ye  write.  I  know  I 
kin  trust  ye,  if  anything  happens,  to  do  the  right 
thing." 

"That  you  can,  Zeb." 

"  Well,  write  it  down;  ye've  got  pen  and  ink.  Jim 
Peasley,  Poseytown,  Injianny.  See  he  gits  the  dust, 


120  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

or  the  money  it  brings,  and  don't  ye  go  to  no  bank 
to  do  it,  but  Wells,  Fargo,  Bud.  And  now  'bout  your 
sheer." 

"Well,  Zeb,  I  haven't  thought  about  it.  I  hardly 
know." 

"See  here,  Bud,  this  thing  must  be  done  ship 
shape." 

"  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care  much;  "  and  think 
ing  a  minute,  "  you  can  send  mine  to  a  name  I'll  write, 
and  I'll  write  a  letter  too,  that  you  can  send." 

' '  Give  me  your  hand  on  it,  then.  I  couldn't  be 
quiet  in  my  grave,  if  I  ever  have  one,  if  anything 
should  happen  to  the  money,"  the  old  man  said. 

They  took  each  other's  hand  on  it,  and  Bud,  getting 
the  pen  and  ink  and  paper,  wrote  a  short  letter,  and 
sealed  it  in  an  envelope,  which  he  directed.  "  Here's 
mine,"  he  said;  "send  to  the  address  on  the  letter, 
and  the  letter  with  it." 

Zeb  awkwardly  took  the  pen,  and  laboriously  devoted 
a  full  hour  to  covering  two  sides  of  a  sheet  of  paper, 
and,  putting  it  in  an  envelope,  handed  the  pen  to  Bud. 
"  Write  ye,"  he  said,  "  Jim  Peasley,  Poseytown,  Inji- 
anny,"  which  Budd  did,  and  sealed  the  envelope.  The 
two  letters  were  carefully  put  away  on  the  little  shelves 
near  their  bunk.  "Now  I  feel  better,"  said  Zeb. 
"  I've  had  this  on  my  mind  ever  sence  we  struck  the 
bed-rock.  Bud,"  he  said,  " 'tain't  no  business  of 
mine,  but  'pears  like  ye  don't  feel  no  better  than  ye 
did  afore  we  struck  it.  Dang'd  if  ye've  been  as  peart 
as  ye  was;  seems  like  ye  don't  care  nothing  'bout  it." 

"Well,  Zeb,  I  don't  care  much,  that's  true.  I  do 
care,  for  you  are  pleased;  but  for  myself,  it  don't  mat 
ter.  Money,  or  no  money,  it's  all  the  same." 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  121 

The  old  man's  kind,  clear  eyes  looked  at  his  young 
companion  searchingly,  and  he  started  to  speak,  but 
checked  himself,  and  sat  in  silence  for  some  time.  At 
last  he  said:  "There's  no  man  I've  taken  to  sence 
Yank  died  like  I  has  to  ye,  Bud.  Ye've  made  a  friend 
of  me;  ye  hain't  put  on  no  airs  with  me.  I'm  igno 
rant,  and  I'm  old-fashioned.  I've  been  so  long  in  the 
mountains  that  dang'd  if  I  know  anything  else.  Ye've 
come  of  good  folks,  and  yer  eddicated.  All  yer  life, 
till  ye  come  with  me,  ye've  had  life  go  easy  with  ye. 
Ye've  never  been  in  rough  places,  nor  had  to  do  with 
rough  folks.  Yer  a  gentleman,  and  ye've  lived  the 
life  of  them  in  cities,  and  it  ain't  that  I  put  myself  to 
larn  ye  anything;  but,  Bud,  I  love  ye  like  ye  was  my 
own  son.  Yes,  my  boy,  I  do ;  and  there's  a  kind  of 
laming  that  comes  with  years  and  ain't  taught  in 
schools,  nor  a  young  man  don't  get  it  from  the  com 
pany  he  keeps,  if  it  is  high  company. 

"  Bud,  yer  wrong,  yer  wrong.  Whatever  has  hap 
pened  to  ye,  I  don't  want  to  know  it;  I  don't  ask  to 
know  it ;  but  I  can  see  yer  wrong  in  the  way  ye  take 
it.  What  years  larns  a  man  to  do  is  to  remember  to 
forgit.  Yer  remembering  everything;  ye  ain't  for- 
gitting  anything.  Now  we'll  suppose, "  and  he  looked 
keenly  at  him  as  he  spoke,  ' '  ye  had  some  trouble,  and 
ye  waited  till  the  feller  drew  on  ye,  and  then  ye  nailed 
him ;  now,  what  ye  want  to  remember  is  that  if  he  had 
got  a  second  shot  at  ye  he'd  'a'  killed  ye,  and  what  ye 
want  to  forgit  is  that  he  was  a  man ;  he  was  a  cougar 
when  he  come  for  ye."  And,  with  his  eyes  still  fixed 
on  him,  "  We'll  suppose  ye  got  in  love — men  mostly 
do  some  time — and  the  girl  wouldn't  have  ye;  then  ye 
want  to  remember  that  lots  of  men  has  done  the  same 


122  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

thing  afore,  and  what  ye  want  to  forgit  is  that  she's 
the  only  woman  in  the  world. ' ' 

Feeling  that  he  had  illustrated  his  meaning  by 
taking  as  examples  all  the  possible  causes  that  could 
have  brought  worry  to  his  friend,  Zeb  added,  "If 
I  had  not  had  this  laming  come  to  me,  I'd  be  a 
miserable  cuss,  for  I've  been  in  both  them  places 
myself. ' ' 

Bud  was  walking  the  floor  of  the  little  cabin. 
"Zeb,"  he  said,  "it's  worse  than  that.  Since  I've 
gotten  to  know  you,  to  realize  what  kind  of  a  man 
you  are,  it  has  been  on  my  lips  to  tell  you  some 
thing;  but  you  are  so  true,  you  are  so  honest,  Zeb. 
I  ought  to  have  told  you  before,  but  I  could  not 
do  it,  Zeb.  They  say  I'm  a  thief;  but  here  before 
God — I'm  looking  into  your  eyes,  Zeb — it  is  a  lie, 
a  damnable  lie.  Yes,  Zeb,  they  said  I  was  a  thief;  " 
and  sobs  came  from  the  young  fellow  as  he  walked 
the  floor. 

"  Ye  did  right,  Bud,  ye  did  right.  I'd  killed  him 
afore  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth.  No  man 
could  do  anything  but  that." 

"  I  didn't  kill  any  one,  Zeb;  I  didn't  touch  him." 

" Didn't  kill  him?  Didn't  touch  him?"  Zeb  re 
peated  in  amazement.  "  Ye  didn't  have  yer  gun,  and 
he  got  away?  " 

"  No,  Zeb,  I  did  not  touch  him.  You  don't  under 
stand  it.  I  love  this  man's  niece.  He  has  been  a 
father  to  her,  and  I  was  in  his  employ ;  something  was 
missed,  and  he  said  I  stole  it.  It  seemed  as  if  it  must 
have  been  me;  everything  pointed  to  me;  everybody 
believes  it.  There  is  no  proof  to  convict  me  before  the 
law,  but  the  judgment  of  man  has  made  me  a  thief. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  123 

It's  horrible;  and  she,  the  girl  I  love,  she  will  believe 
it.  Oh,  God,  it  almost  drives  me  wild!  I  don't  think 
of  it.  I  try  to  forget  it,  but  it  will  come  up.  When 
I  met  you,  Zeb,  I  was  just  from  New  York.  I  said  to 
myself,  '  There  is  no  hope  for  me  here. '  I  could  not 
fight  the  charge,  for  none  was  publicly  made.  I  could 
not  remain  there.  I  felt,  for  the  sake  of  the  one  I 
loved,  I  must  get  out  of  her  way,  and  so  I  left,  with 
no  idea  where  I  was  going,  with  no  care  where  I  went, 
hoping  everybody  would  forget  me.  I  bought  a  ticket 
to  San  Francisco.  There  was  something  in  the  air, 
or  change  of  scene,  that  put  vigor  in  me.  As  I  rode 
along  I  said  to  myself,  '  I  will  begin  in  a  new  country 
a  new  life.  I  will  put  the  old  one  behind  me.  I  will 
never  go  back  to  friends  who  have  been  so  unjust,  to 
associates  so  cruel. ' 

"The  clear  air,  the  bright  skies,  the  wildness  of 
the  country  calmed  me.  I  met  a  man  on  the  train, 
and  we  fell  into  conversation.  He  was  going  to 
Helena,  in  Montana,  and  because  he  did  not  know  me, 
because  he  could  not  look  on  me  with  the  suspicious 
eyes  of  those  I  had  left  behind,  because  he  talked  of 
the  new  country,  he  interested  me,  common,  vulgar, 
scheming  creature  though  he  was;  and  as  he  was 
going,  he  told  me  to  ride  from  Helena  to  some  mines 
he  had — they  were  in  such  a  wild  country.  I  was 
interested,  and  I  thought  to  myself, '  I  wish  I  could  go 
into  some  place  so  wild  that  I  could  see  no  one,'  and  I 
asked  him  if  I  could  go  with  him.  He  seemed  pleased 
to  have  me,  and  so  I  went  to  Helena  with  him.  There 
I  bought  the  outfit  that  I  have,  for  he  told  me  what  to 
get,  and  I  paid  for  mine  and  for  his,  for  it  seemed  he 
had  no  money.  He  would  repay  me  at  his  mines.  I 


124  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

did  not  care  whether  he  ever  paid  me  or  not.  I  had 
tny  money  all  in  large  bills,  and  he  could  see  it  when 
I  took  it  out. 

"The  day  before  we  left  Helena,  I  deposited  in  a 
bank  twelve  hundred  dollars.  He  did  not  know  of  it 
— not  that  I  cared — but  it  happened  he  was  not  with 
me,  and  I  did  not  speak  of  it.  I  had  about  three 
hundred  dollars  more  left,  and  I  took  it  with  me.  We 
rode  off  and  we  camped,  and  all  was  new  to  me ;  every 
thing  interested  me — the  packing,  the  cooking,  the 
free,  independent  air  of  it  all.  "We  had  been  riding 
several  days,  and  I  began  to  know  this  man,  and  I 
began  to  hate  him  as  I  did;  he  was  so  selfish  and  so 
mean  and  so  low  in  his  ideas.  I  was  bored  with  him. 
I  was  anxious  to  get  to  our  destination  so  that  I  might 
leave  him.  I  had  now  a  little  knowledge  of  how  to 
travel  in  a  wild  country,  and  I  wished  to  be  by  my 
self,  to  go  by  myself,  anywhere,  it  did  not  matter 
where.  The  next  day  we  would  reach  his  place,  and 
the  next  day,  and  so  on.  One  morning  I  awoke,  and 
he  and  everything  that  belonged  to  him  was  gone.  I 
went  to  my  coat,  which  I  had  thrown  on  my  saddle, 
and,  as  I  expected,  my  pocket-book  was  gone.  I  cared 
so  little,  I  was  so  glad  he  had  gone,  I  was  so  pleased 
to  get  rid  of  him,  I  did  not  even  regret  the  loss  of  my 
money.  I  was  happy;  I  knew,  whichever  way  I 
went,  that  in  time  I  would  meet  some  one,  or  cross 
some  road ;  and  if  it  would  be  a  month  before  I  did, 
it  mattered  not.  My  trouble  was  with  my  pack-horse 
and  his  pack,  but  I  got  along  after  a  fashion.  The 
third  day,  I  met  you,  Zeb,  and  I  was  tired  of  being 
alone.  There  was  something  about  you  that  I  liked, 
and  I  asked  to  go  with  you.  That's  all  my  miserable 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  125 

story.  Save  one  man,  to  whom  I  wrote  the  letter, 
and  perhaps  the  woman  I  love,  everybody  believes 
me  a  thief.  Perhaps,  I  say.  Good  God!  I  don't 
know,  but  she  can't  believe  it;  she  can't  believe  it, 
Zeb.  Tell  me  you  don't  believe  this  lie,  Zeb;  tell  mo 
that." 

During  this  recital,  Zeb's  amazement  had  gradually 
given  place  to  sympathy. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  of  ye,  Bud,"  he  said. 
"  I  suppose  city  ways  is  differnt,  and  I  allow  for  him 
being  an  uncle  of  the  girl's,  and  all  that,  and  ye 
young,  too.  I'll  bet  my  life  yer  no  thief,"  he  said, 
taking  the  young  man's  hand;  "  but  yer  a  fool,  Bud, 
that's  what  ye  are.  I'm  sorry  for  yer  trouble;  I'd 
give  anything  to  help  ye.  Ye've  been  wrong  'bout  it 
all.  Ye've  run  away  when  ye  ought  to  have  staid 
right  there  and  fought  it  out.  Ye've  given  everybody 
a  right  to  think  ye  did  that  thing.  I  can't  see  it  no 
other  way.  I  never  see  anything  so  misfortnit  as  the 
man  being  her  uncle  and  a  sort  of  father  to  her.  Yes, 
perhaps  ye  couldn't  kill  him.  I  don't  know;  it's  a 
hard  question  'bout  that. 

"  We'll  take  a  trip  this  next  summer,  Bud,  yon  and 
me,  and  we'll  go  to  New  York,  and  we'll  camp  right 
there  till  this  thing's  made  straight.  Now,  don't  ye 
have  it  on  yer  mind,  boy ;  thar's  nothing  can  be  done 
now,  and  it's  foolish  to  worry  and  wind  yer  hoss 
afore  ye've  got  to  use  him. 

"There's  nobody  here  but  thinks  ye're  a  squar 
man;  nobody  here  but  loves  ye.  Dang  it,  Bud,  ye've 
got  like  a  son  to  me. ' ' 

After  having  told  his  story,  Bud  felt  a  sense  of 
relief.  The  sympathy  and  confidence  of  his  compan- 


126  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

ion  in  him  were  so  grateful.  It  touched  him  to  see 
how,  in  a  thousand  ways,  Zeb  tried  to  cheer  him.  He 
never  spoke  of  it,  but  his  efforts  were  made  with  so 
much  delicacy,  and  were  so  unremitting,  he  could  not 
fail  to  feel  them. 


CHAPTER  X 

As  they  had  a  chance,  Zeb,  and  Bud  acting  under 
his  instructions,  made  a  rocker,  something  like  a 
cradle,  the  bottom,  set  on  an  angle,  resting  on  round 
ing  pieces.  One  would  bring  the  gravel,  and  the  other 
would  dip  up  and  pour  in  the  water  and  agitate  the 
rocker.  Often  they  would  take  out  in  a  few  hours 
what  Zeb  would  estimate  at  fifty  or  sixty  dollars;  and 
there  coming  a  little  soft  weather,  they  ran  a  little 
water  through  the  sluice-boxes,  and  shovelling  in  the 
gravel  as  fast  as  the  slight  head  of  water  would  allow, 
they  cleared  up  from  the  riffles  in  the  bottom  about 
ninety  ounces  of  gold-dust.  Their  little  store  had  aug 
mented  till  now  Zeb  roughly  calculated  they  had  one 
hundred  and  thirty  ounces  of  gold.  This  was  put  in 
a  buckskin  sack  of  the  old  man's  making,  and  had  such 
decided  weight,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  lift  it. 

Sundays  they  took  long  walks  on  the  snowshoes, 
Bud  getting  very  expert  in  their  use;  they  even 
extended  their  walks  so  that  one  day  they  made  twenty- 
five  miles.  The  probability  of  their  "diggins,."  for 
so  Zeb  dignified  them,  demanding  more  water  than 
they  could  conveniently  reach  near  by,  and  which 
should  furnish  a  supply  all  season,  led  Zeb  to  explore 
a  big  creek  which,  some  distance  above  them,  put  into 
the  river. 

They  walked  up  this  creek,  and  calculated  that,  by 


128  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

bringing  in  a  ditch  eight  or  nine  miles  long,  ample 
water  could  be  brought  on  their  claim  at  a  sufficient 
height  above  it  to  give  a  fall  of  two  hundred  feet  or 
more  for  the  pipes,  Zeb  explaining  the  manner  of 
working  hydraulic  mines  in  a  large  way,  as  they  went 
along.  From  where  they  had  stopped  to  look  at  a 
place  in  the  stream  where  Zeb  thought  would  be  an 
advantageous  place  to  begin  the  contemplated  ditch 
there  ran  by  gradual  descent  a  long,  smooth  mountain 
side. 

"  I  would  like  to  go  up  there,  Zeb,  and  look  off  of 
the  divide,"  said  Bud.  "It's  a  clear  day;  we  could 
see  a  long  distance." 

"  That  ain't  a  bad  idee.  I'd  like  to  kinder  get  the 
lay  of  the  country  myself,"  said  the  old  man;  "  so  go 
ahead." 

They  found  it  a  long,  hard  climb,  and  three  hours 
of  active  work  elapsed  before  they  stood  on  the  sum 
mit  ;  but  the  grand  view  before  them  well  repaid  the 
effort.  A  great  white  solitude,  broken  by  patches  of 
timber.  Over  this  wintry  waste  the  eye  roamed  in 
search  of  something  that  might  indicate  human  pres 
ence,  but  there  was  nothing ;  unbroken  solitude,  nature 
at  her  wildest,  and  over  her,  winter's  white  blanket; 
not  a  cloud  in  the  sky.  The  eye  roamed  for  scores  of 
miles  over  as  unbroken  a  wilderness  as  our  great  land 
contains.  Away  at  the  north  the  brown,  darker  color 
showed  the  plains  the  hills  had  lapsed  into;  but  west 
and  east  and  south  only  broken  mountain  country 
with  great  peaks  of  dazzling  whiteness  rising  high 
above  the  green  spots  of  timber  on  their  sides;  great 
clefts,  of  which  they  could  not  see  the  bottom,  showed 
where  the  Salmon  and  its  tributaries  made  way.  Off 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  129 

at  the  east  and  south  sharply  ran  the  jagged  ridge 
of  the  Sawtooth  Range,  and  the  White  Mountains, 
cold  and  still,  like  great  domes  of  rounded  marble, 
limited  vision  in  their  direction.  The  Weisers,  Esty's 
Peak,  and  others  afar  off,  the  bright  sun  brought 
clearly  out,  while  the  innumerable  smaller  hills  crowded 
around  these  giants,  sitting  at  their  feet  with  their 
green  mantles  of  fir  and  pine  drawn  round  them.  Not 
a  breath  of  air  stirred ;  the  stillness  that  can  be  felt, 
the  quiet  of  a  great  loneliness,  was  over  all. 

"  "Where  is  there  any  one  besides  ourselves,  Zeb?  " 
at  last  Bud  said.  "  One  would  think  we  were  alone 
in  the  world." 

"Let  me  see.  Placerville  must  be  about  there," 
pointing  to  the  south.  "  I  reckon  that's  the  nearest 
settlement;  mebbe  it's  a  hundred  and  twenty  or  thirty 
miles.  Yes,"  continued  Zeb,  "it  lies  about  that 
way.  There's  Bernard  Mountain,  and  that's  Scott's 
Peak,  and  it  lies  on  beyond,  across  the  Payette,  about 
fifty  miles  or  so  farther." 

"  And  is  there  no  one  nearer  than  that?  " 

"  There's  placer  mines  somewhere  between  here  and 
Placerville,  but  it  ain't  likely  there's  any  one  there  in 
winter;  and  there  may  be  trappers  somewhere  round, 
but  it  ain't  likely;  this  ain't  no  great  fur  country 
'round  here,  no  way." 

The  sun,  now  some  distance  past  the  zenith,  began 
to  cast  shadows  here  and  there,  and  gave  a  still  colder 
aspect  to  the  scene,  for  where  they  fell  the  snowy  sur 
face  was  steel  gray. 

"We'll  have  a  great  run  down,"  said  Zeb,  "and 
we'd  better  be  going,  for  it's  quite  a  pull  to  camp." 

They  started  down  the  mountain,  and  had  a  most 
9 


130  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

exhilarating  run  for  three  miles  or  more,  doing  it  in 
ten  minutes;  and  so  quickly  had  Bud  acquired  the 
knack  of  riding  the  shoes,  that  he  allowed  them  to 
take  a  pace  Zeb  did  not  keep  up  with,  and  arrived  at 
the  cabin  after  a  good  twenty-five  mile  round,  little 
exhausted  by  the  exertion  of  the  day. 

Day  after  day  went  by,  and  as  the  temperature 
allowed  the  water  to  run,  they  added  to  their  stock  of 
gold-dust.  Another  thaw  gave  so  much  of  it  that 
they  could  again  shovel  the  gravel  into  the  boxes,  and 
so  more  dust  went  into  the  buckskin  sacks,  for  there 
were  now  two  of  them.  Bud  became  quite  familiar 
with  the  work,  and,  as  Zeb  said,  "  took  to  it  like  an 
old  timer." 

In  the  running  off  of  the  gravel,  a  large  boulder  in 
it  came  to  light,  and  as  it  was  in  the  channel  or  line 
where  was  the  richest  ground,  the  miners  had  worked 
the  gravel  away  from  beneath  it,  and  to  keep  it  from 
falling  on  the  bed-rock  and  being  in  their  way,  they 
had  propped  it  up,  holding  it  in  place  by  an  upright 
timber.  The  soft  weather  caused  the  water  from  the 
melting  snow  above  to  trickle  down  the  side  of  the 
excavation  from  which  this  rock  hung  out,  partly  im 
bedded  in  the  gravel  and  partly  overhanging  the  bed 
rock  on  which  was  set  the  timber  supporting  it. 

It  had  been  a  soft  night,  and  when  work  was  begun 
in  the  morning,  here  and  there  the  sides  of  the  cut 
had  slumped  off,  and  the  necessity  of  still  further 
strengthening  the  supports  of  the  boulder  was  appar 
ent.  Timbers  were  cut  and  placed  under  it,  and  when 
it  seemed  as  if  all  was  nearly  secure,  a  great  mass  of 
gravel,  earth,  and  snow,  carrying  the  boulder  with  it, 
fell  without  a  second's  warning.  Bud  was  a  little  far- 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  131 

ther  away,  and  thougli  thrown  down  and  half  buried 
by  the  stones  and  partially  frozen  earth  that  came  on 
him  like  a  wave,  was  not  much  injured.  His  first 
thought  was  of  Zeb,  who,  wedged  in  between  the 
fallen  timbers  and  nearly  covered  by  the  debris,  his 
face  white  as  death,  was  almost  within  reach  of  his 
hands.  Wildly  he  called  out  to  him,  but  no  answer 
came;  he  struggled  to  free  himself,  and  at  last  suc 
ceeded.  He  could  tell  Zeb  was  still  alive  from  his 
breathing;  only  his  head  and  neck  and  one  shoulder 
were  uncovered. 

Bud  pulled  at  him,  but  he  could  not  move  him.  He 
took  shovel  and  pick,  and  dug  and  pulled  the  covering 
from  him.  Across  his  stomach  and  side  a  timber  had 
fallen,  and  on  one  end  of  it  was  the  great  rock,  he 
judged,  for  he  could  see  its  top,  and  it  was  in  the  line 
of  the  timber.  With  all  his  strength  he  tried  to  move 
the  log,  but  it  was  not  till  he  had  loosened  another 
from  the  mass  where  it  lay  half  covered,  that,  using 
it  as  a  lever,  he  pried  the  timber  one  side,  and  at  last 
drew  Zeb,  unconscious,  inanimate,  away. 

His  exertions  had  been  prodigious,  and  he  could  only 
gasp,  "  For  God's  sake,  Zeb,  dear  old  Zeb,  are  you 
hurt?" 

Slowly  the  old  man's  senses  returned,  and  he  an 
swered  him  in  a  dazed  way.  "It's  all  right,  Jane," 
he  said,  "  all  right." 

"  Don't  you  know  me,  Zeb  ?    It's  I,  Bud. " 

"That's  so;  the  dang  slide  knocked  me  out.  See 
if  my  legs  are  broken,  will  ye?  " 

No  bones  were  broken,  and  very  faint  and  pale  the 
old  man  was  helped  to  his  feet. 

"There's  something  wrong  inside,"  he  said.     "I 


132  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

guess  my  ribs  are  broke;  and  I  feel  weak,  and  I'm 
'bout  done  up." 

With  great  difficulty  Bud  brought  him  out  of  the 
cut,  having  to  carry  him  at  last,  and  partly  dragging 
him  on  the  snow-shoes,  got  him  to  the  cabin,  where, 
being  more  closely  examined,  it  seemed  that  three  ribs 
were  broken ;  and  bruises  here  and  there,  all  over  his 
legs  and  arms  and  body,  made  the  accident  serious 
enough  to  cause  alarm. 

''I  don't  care  nothing  'bout  them  things  if  I  ain't 
hurt  inside.  I  kinder  feel  I  am,  but  we'll  tell  more  in 
a  day  or  two,"  said  Zeb. 

Bud  helped  him  into  his  bunk,  and,  as  Zeb  directed 
him,  put  such  bandages  around  him  as  were  necessary. 

Often  that  night  he  went  to  the  old  man's  bunk, 
finding  him  awake,  but  always  deprecating  so  much 
kind  attention.  Next  day  Zeb  was  only  able  to  stir 
about  the  cabin  a  little.  There  was  a  "bad  feeling 
inside,"  as  he  expressed  it.  He  insisted  on  Bud's  leav 
ing  him  and  going  to  work  as  usual  at  the  "  diggins," 
and,  as  his  anxiety  was  so  marked,  Bud,  against  his 
own  wish,  put  in  the  day  as  usual,  going  up  at  noon 
to  the  cabin  to  see  how  his  companion  was.  At  night 
he  was  as  cheerful  as  ever,  displaying  great  interest 
in,  and  asking  many  questions  about,  what  had  been 
done  that  day.  "I  don't  feel  just  right  inside,"  he 
said;  and  "  then  perhaps  I'd  better  keep  quiet  a  few 
days  on  account  of  them  ribs." 

The  days  went  by,  Bud  working  alone,  and  Zeb 
moving  about  but  little,  and  that  little  disapproved  of 
by  his  young  companion,  who,  so  far  as  he  could,  en 
forced  complete  rest,  so  as  to  give  the  broken  ribs  a 
chance  to  unite  again. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  133 

It  was  lonely  work  for  the  young  man ;  he  missed 
the  cheery  companionship,  and  it  gave  him  more 
opportunity  to  reflect  on  his  own  trouble.  He  saw 
now  that,  as  Zeb  had  said,  he  had,  by  his  leaving  New 
York,  given  every  one  the  right  to  think  he  was  a  guilty 
man,  and  this  chafed  him.  His  remaining  and  hold 
ing  his  ground  would  at  least  have  done  something  to 
convince  the  one  of  all  the  world  he  most  desired  to 
believe  in  his  innocence.  "Can  it  be  possible,"  he 
thought,  "  that  she  will  think  of  me  as  others  do,  as 
they  must  think  of  me?"  And,  then,  there  was  in 
this  lonely  situation  so  much  reason  for  anxiety  on 
Zeb's  account,  for  notwithstanding  the  difference  in 
their  years,  education,  and  conditions  of  life,  he  had 
come  to  think  much  of  the  old  man.  "Yes,"  he 
said  to  himself,  ' '  you  are  a  man,  Zeb,  and  I  love  a 
man.  What  a  simple,  grand  old  character  he  is!  "  he 
thought.  All  the  men  he  had  ever  known  seemed  so 
artificial  beside  him.  Now  he  knew  him  so  well,  he 
felt  he  had  at  last  met  a  man. 

There  is  a  certain  manliness  in  some  men  that  per 
meates  the  air  about  them ;  an  emanation  from  them 
that  neither  the  purple  of  an  emperor,  the  fustian  of 
a  laborer,  nor  the  buckskin  of  a  backwoodsman  can 
smother.  It  appertains  neither  to  riches  nor  to  pov 
erty,  to  high  nor  lowly  station.  To  be  a  man  is  more 
than  to  be  a  gentleman;  to  be  a  woman,  more  than  to 
be  a  lady.  Precept,  example,  education,  training, 
surroundings,  may  take  a  passive  child  and  make  it  a 
gentleman  or  a  lady,  provided  the  child  be  morally 
healthy  and  amiable;  the  graces  of  heart  and  mind 
under  these  formative  agencies  are  built  up,  and,  given 
a  well-disposed,  kindly  child,  you  have  as  their  product 


134  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

that  consideration  for  others,  that  refinement  of  mind 
and  conduct,  that  abhorrence  of  pretence,  that  grace 
and  elegance  of  word  and  manner,  that  to  our  modern, 
broader  ideas  define  the  gentleman  and  lady.  A  man 
is  something  more,  a  woman  is  something  more,  than 
this.  Man,  woman,  designate  the  male  and  female 
biped,  and  under  these  two  heads  all  human  beings  of 
course  come.  TTe  are  speaking  here  of  man  at  his 
best,  of  woman  at  her  best — the  ideal  individuals  of 
each  sex. 

There  is  something  in  the  tendency  of  culture  and 
gentle  nurture  deteriorating  in  its  effect.  No  advan 
tage  is  gained  without  some  loss :  it  is  a  corollary  to 
the  law  of  compensation. 

You  may  take  a  thoroughbred;  centuries  of  careful 
breeding  have  made  him,  in  most  respects,  an  ideal 
horse.  He  has  speed,  courage,  style,  endurance,  intel 
ligence.  Under  easy  conditions  of  life,  everything 
going  smoothly,  good  care  and  plenty  to  eat,  he  is  as 
near  perfection  as  a  horse  can  be;  but  when  he  is 
placed  side  by  side  with  a  half -wild  mustang,  and  has 
to  carry  his  rider  and  accoutrements  over  a  rough 
mountain  country,  living  on  its  scanty  grass,  some 
days  getting  water,  and  some  days  going  without  a 
drop,  the  mustang  will  kill  him  and  be  none  the  worse 
for  it.  There  is  a  certain  horse  vigor  about  the  one 
that  art,  while  it  has  made  the  other  a  better  horse  in 
most  particulars,  has  deprived  the  thoroughbred  of. 

You  may  take  a  rose,  a  product  of  most  painstaking 
and  long-continued  development  from  an  original  wild 
rose.  It  seems  a  perfect  thing;  its  appearance,  its 
odor,  crown  it  queen  among  flowers.  In  its  long  evo 
lution  from  its  parent  stock  it  has  gained  much,  but  it 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  135 

has  lost  something;  the  fresh,  delicate  wild  flavor  has 
gone. 

These  are  both  physical  changes  in  horse  and  in 
rose,  but  in  mankind  the  mental  change  is  not  less 
marked. 

A  Latin  author,  speaking  of  something  to  be  done, 
says:  This  requires  not  the  brawn  of  the  athlete,  but 
the  sinew  of  the  soldier.  Brawn  is  the  result  of  cul 
tivation;  the  gymnasium  has  made  it.  Sinew  is 
formed  by  the  rough  contact  of  man  with  the  forces 
of  nature;  it  develops  under  hunger  and  thirst;  it 
waxes  strong  and  tense  and  elastic  under  hardships. 
Brawn  and  sinew  of  heart  and  mind  there  are  in  a 
sense. 

A  king  upon  his  throne  may  have  been  born  with 
the  foundation  for  the  best  development  of  both,  and 
nature  and  art  may  leave  him  man  and  gentleman.  A 
rough  mountaineer  may  be  a  man,  and  lack  but  little 
of  being  a  gentleman;  the  man  is  born,  the  gentle 
man  is  made. 

There  was  about  Zeb  a  virility  of  thought,  expres 
sion,  and  manner;  a  masterful  bearing  in  the  conflict 
between  man  and  the  forces  opposed  to  him  when, 
single-handed,  he  contends  in  the  wilderness  for  exist 
ence  ;  a  courage  and  determination  that  nothing  could 
blunt. 

A  simple  patriotism  and  love  of  country  dominated 
him.  A  stern  sense  of  justice,  a  heart  as  tender  as  a 
woman's,  a  dauntless  spirit,  a  modesty  that  concealed 
all  these  until  there  came  some  puff  of  indignation, 
some  breeze  of  sentiment,  some  blast  of  need,  that 
swept  aside  the  veil  and  showed  to  all  about  him  what 
was  behind  it,  gave  him  a  charm  in  Bud's  eyes. 


136  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

Then  he  was  so  unselfish  in  the  little  matters  that, 
where  two  men  live  alone,  are  all  the  time  coming  up, 
and  so  sympathetic  over  Bud's  own  troubles  that  his 
heart  warmed  to  him  as  it  never  did  to  any  man  before. 

And  now  this  man,  this  friend,  lay,  he  feared,  in 
more  danger  than  he  would  admit,  or  perhaps  himself 
knew.  The  loneliness  of  their  situation,  their  complete 
isolation  from  any  chance  of  aid  of  any  kind  oppressed 
him,  and  with  a  troubled  heart  he  did  his  work.  Aside 
from  an  almost  feverish  interest  in  the  results  of  the 
day's  labor,  that  in  much  questioning  and  advice  mani 
fested  itself  nightly,  Zeb  continued  much  the  same  for 
some  days. 

One  evening,  however,  as  the  old  man  lay  in  his 
bunk,  and  after  the  doings  of  the  day  had  been  most 
minutely  gone  over,  he  said,  ' '  You  see  them  marks  on 
the  log  here  ?  ' '  pointing  to  the  wall  at  the  side  of  his 
bunk.  "I'm  keeping  my  time  here,  Bud,  and  we'd 
better  settle  'bout  it  now;  my  idee  is  that  four  dollars 
a  day  is  about  squar,  considering  everything ;  what  do 
ye  think?  If  that  ain't  right,  say  what  you  think 
would  be." 

'  *  Eight  for  what,  Zeb  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?  ' ' 

"  Why,  for  the  time  I  lay  off  and  you're  a- working. " 

"  I  don't  understand  what  you  are  talking  about, 
Zeb." 

"  Yer  a- working  more  nor  me,  and  what  I  want  to 
know  is  what  would  be  squar  to  pay  you  for  it ;  and 
when  we  get  the  dust  I'll  owe  you  as  much  as  them 
marks  at  so  many  dollars  a  day  will  come  to.  I'll  put 
one  down  every  day  till  I  get  up,  if  I  ever  do." 

"Zeb,  you  would  not  owe  me  a  dollar  if  you  did 
not  work  for  a  year.  I  owe  you  so  much  now,  more 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  137 

than  I  can  ever  pay.  It  is  not  dollars  I  owe  you,  it's 
health  you  have  given  me,  Zeb;  it's  some  sort  of 
peace  I  owe  you,  for  your  trust  and  confidence  and 
sympathy  have  done  more  to  make  my  mind  and  heart 
well  and  strong  than  anything  else  could  have  done. ' ' 

' '  Hold,  Bud.  That  I  trust  ye  and  love  ye  like  a 
son,  there  ain't  no  doubt;  and  that  I  owe  ye  when  I 
don't  work  and  ye  do,  there  ain't  no  doubt  on,  neither. 
Right  is  right,  and  I  want  it  so.  I  won't  have  it  no 
other  way." 

Bud  insisted  that  the  matter  should  not  be  consid 
ered,  but  Zeb  was  obdurate. 

"  There's  laws  to  all  things,"  he  said;  "  and  though 
they  ain't  in  no  book,  and  lawyers  don't  know  'bout 
them,  mebbe,  they're  laws,  and  the  law  among  pard- 
ners  is  that  when  one  don't  work  he  pays  the  others, 
and  it  comes  out  of  his  sheer;  mostly  it's  four  dollars  a 
day,  but  that's  how  they  agree.  It  can't  be  no  other 
way,  Bud;  it's  pardners'  law,  and  ye  ain't  going  to  go 
agin  that,  are  ye?  We've  got  to  have  everything 
regular.  It  can't  be  no  other  way. " 

"  Then  if  that's  so,  I  lost  some  days  when  we  came 
back  from  leaving  the  horses." 

"  Of  course  ye  did,  and  likely  ye've  got  the  marks 
for  'em  somewhere." 

"  I  never  thought  of  it,  Zeb.  I  didn't  mark  any 
thing  down,  but  I  know  it  was  two  days,  and  next  day 
I  wasn't  good  for  anything,  so  it's  three." 

"  Ye  was  in  the  cut,  and  so  ye  didn't  lose  that  day. 
It's  pardners'  law,  too,  that  if  ye've  a  tool  in  your 
hand  at  the  work  ye  don't  lose  time." 

Zeb  was  so  determined  about  this  matter  that  Bud 
had  to  acquiesce. 


138  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

"  We'll  cross  out  two  of  these  marks  of  mine,  and 
then  it  will  be  all  right;"  and  Zeb,  as  he  spoke, 
crossed  out  two  of  the  marks.  "I'm  going  to  say 
something  to  ye,"  he  continued;  "  mebbe  there  won't 
be  no  need,  mebbe  there  may.  I'm  hurt  inside,  Bud; 
I  don't  give  nothing  for  them  ribs,  they'll  be  all 
right;  but  something's  wrong  inside  of  me,  and  I 
don't  know  how  'twill  come  out.  It's  best  to  make 
everything  right  when  ye  can,  and  not  wait  till  ye 
can't.  I  give  ye  a  letter,  ye  mind  it,  Bud,  and  I've 
got  yer  promise  'bout  that;  but  there's  another  thing, 
and  I'll  fix  that  now,  and  then  we  won't  talk  no  more 
'bout  it.  I've  got  a  little  buckskin  sack  here;  Yank's 
pipe  he  give  me  the  day  he  was  killed  is  in  it,  and 
there's  another  thing  in  it,  and  if  so  be  I  play  out, 
which  in  course  can  happen  to  any  man  any  time,  I 
want  3^6  to  put  the  sack  inside  my  shirt  here,"  touch 
ing  his  heart  with  his  hand,  "  when  ye  roll  me  in  my 
blankits." 

"  Don't  talk  like  that,  Zeb,"  said  Bud. 

"  And  if  it  comes  that  way,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I 
give  ye  my  outfit,  the  hosses  and  all.  Ye'll  be  kind 
to  old  Bally,  I  know  ye  will.  He's  an  old  devil,  I 
know,  but  we've  been  a  long  time  together,  and  you'll 
stand  his  cussedness  till  he  dies.  It  won't  be  long, 
for  he'll  kinder  miss  me.  He  never  give  a  damn  for 
nobody  but  me.  And  ye'll  keep  the  old  gun;  it's 
spoke  loud  and  struck  true  for  me  many  a  time;  if 
'twas  anybody  but  ye,  Bud,  my  boy,  I'd  tell  ye  to  roll 
it  in  the  blankits  with  me." 

' '  Why,  Zeb,  you  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  days,  and 
you  must  not  get  discouraged;  it's  dull  being  here 
alone  all  day  and  you  get  blue,  that's  all. " 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  139 

"Well,  Bud,  mebbe  it's  so;  but  what  I've  said 
won't  do  no  harm,  and  them  things  was  on  my  mind." 

"  If  you  only  had  a  doctor;  if  you  were  only  where 
you  could  have  care.  What  do  you  think  is  wrong, 
Zeb?  How  do  you  feel?"  And  Bud  questioned 
him,  and  went  over  to  him,  taking  his  big,  sinewy 
hand  in  his. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  feel  right,  but  mebbe,  as 
you  say,  I'll  be  all  right  soon.  I  see  a  feller  once;  he 
was  caved  on  like  me,  and  I've  thought  of  him  a  hun 
dred  times  sence  I've  been  laying  here.  The  doctor 
told  me  he  had  a  clost  call,  but  he  fetched  him  out  all 
right.  I  disremember  what  it  was  he  give  him,  and 
if  I  did,  course  we  hain't  got  it  here;  but  I  hain't  no 
idee  'twas  the  medicine  did  it." 

"  How  far  do  you  think  it  is  to  a  doctor,  Zeb  ?  " 

"  Must  be  one  hundred  and  forty  or  fifty  miles  to 
Placerville.  I  reckon  there's  a  doctor  there,  but  he 
might  as  well  be  in  heaven,  if  that's  a  place  one  on 
'em  ever  goes  to,  which  I  have  my  doubts  on.  Some 
on  'em's  good,  I  suppose,  but  they  run  dang  thin  on 
this  coast,  I  tell  ye. 

"  I  hain't  had  no  conceit  of  'em  sence  the  fall  Yank 
and  me  come  into  Nevady.  We  was  a-travelling 
along,  gitting  up  into  the  mountains,  and  one  day  we 
stopped  a  while  at  a  little  town.  There  was  an  old 
friend  of  ours  there  and  we  went  into  his  cabin  and  he 
got  us  dinner.  I  never  went  much  on  salt,  but  Yank 
he  was  the  dangdest  man  for  salt  I  ever  see;  there 
warn't  none  on  the  table,  and  he  says  to  the  man, 
'  Hain't  yer  any  salt,  Sam?  '  '  Yes,  there  'tis  on  the 
window,'  he  says;  and  Yank  reaches  out  and  gits  it. 
We'd  finished  eating,  and  'twas  little  we  had,  for  Sam 


140  YELLOW  PINE  J3ASIN 

was  out  of  luck,  when  he  passed  long  by  the  window. 
I  see  him  grow  pale.  '  My  God ! '  he  says,  '  Yank, 
ye've  got  the  pizen,'  and  out  he  rushes  for  the  doctor. 
Yank  says,  '  I  don't  taste  nothin' ;  I  don't  feel  nothin'. ' 
In  a  minnit  in  comes  Sam.  '  Quick, '  he  says ;  '  have 
ye  got  any  dust  ?  The  doctor  won't  come  less  he's  a 
twenty. '  "We  hadn't  but  a  little  silver.  *  Where  is 
he?  '  I  says.  '  Come  'long  with  me,'  he  says;  and  we 
go  up  the  street  two  or  three  houses,  and  into  the  doc 
tor's  office,  and  a  meaner  looking  cuss  I  never  see. 
'  Come  quick,'  I  said,  '  my  pardner's  pizened.'  '  Give 
me  twenty,'  said  he.  '  I  hain't  got  it;  but  come,  I'll 
give  ye  all  we've  got.'  '  No,  I  won't  go,'  he  says.  I 
reached  for  him,  and  in  a  minnit  he  was  afore  Yank 
in  the  cabin.  '  There's  the  man,'  I  said.  '  He's  piz 
ened;  do  }rou  fix  him  up.  Mind  ye,  if  Yank  dies,  I'll 
kill  ye.  Keep  back, '  I  said  to  the  few  that  was  com 
ing  in;  'no  man  comes  in  here.'  The  doctor  was 
ugly,  but  I  meant  it,  and  he  knew  it ;  so  he  sent  Sam 
for  some  stuff,  and  Sam  told  them  outside  how  it  was, 
and  they  was  all  with  me. 

"  Yank  said  he  didn't  feel  nothing,  and  he  says,  as 
he  took  some  of  the  stuff  on  his  finger,  '  I'll  taste  that 
agin; '  and,  before  we  could  stop  him,  he  did.  '  Well,' 
says  he,  '  if  that  ain't  salt,  I'll  be  danged.  I  tell  ye 
it's  salt.'  Just  then  Sam  came  in  with  the  medicine, 
and  going  up  to  the  tin,  looked  agin,  and  then  he  lifted 
up  a  board  in  the  floor,  and  there  was  another  tin. 
'  It's  all  right.  I  thought  he'd  taken  the  pizen,  but 
it's  here;  that's  salt,'  he  cried  out. 

"  I  was  never  so  glad  in  my  life.  I  could  have  cried, 
and  hugged  Yank.  But  warn't  it  singerler  ?  I  began 
a -cussing  Sam.  'Ye  ornery  fool,'  I  said,  'won't  ye 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  141 

never  have  sense  to  think  afore  ye  spring  such  a  play 
on  a  man  ?  ' 

"  But  Yank  he  says,  '  Sam,  ye've  done  me  a  power 
of  good;  I  wouldn't  have  missed  it  for  nothing.  There 
never  was  no  sermon  hit  me  like  them  words  of  yours. ' 

"  I  was  a-going  to  kick  the  doctor  out,  but  Yank  he 
caught  me,  and  wouldn't  have  it.  '  I  feel  pious,'  he 
said  to  the  cuss,  'or  I'd  give  ye  a  chance  to  doctor 
yerself  for  a  month.  Git  out,  for  Zeb  is  no  good 
company  for  ye  now. ' 

"And  the  doctor  went  out,  and  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Yank,  them  outside  would  have  lynched  him ;  as 
it  was,  that  night,  after  we  was  gone,  they  give  him 
notice  to  leave  camp  in  twenty-four  hours. 

"  We  sold  an  old  boss  we  had  for  twenty -five  dollars 
and  paid  the  doctor  his  twenty,  and  we  put  the  pack 
on  one  of  the  riding  bosses,  and  spelled  each  other  a 
walking  into  Nevady,  and  that's  how  I  lost  my  grip 
on  doctors.  I  larfed  'bout  it  as  we  was  a- travelling, 
but  Yank  he  didn't  do  nothing  but  shoot  off  texts  for 
a  week.  '  I  tell  ye,  Zeb,'  he'd  say  to  me,  '  I  see  things 
and  thought  things  I'd  never  done  afore.  It  wer  bet 
ter  for  my  soul  than  Ayer's  pills  is  for  ye  when  yer 
bilious;' :'  and  as  he  concluded  his  reminiscence,  the 
old  man  laughed  heartily. 

He  was  cheerful,  and  save  his  intense  interest  in  the 
recounting  of  the  way  things  had  gone  at  the  "dig- 
gins,"  and  the  gloating  satisfaction  he  displayed  in 
weighing  in  his  hand  the  increasing  heaviness  of  the 
sacks  in  which  the  dust  was  nightly  put,  Zeb  appeared 
much  the  same.  He  had  grown  paler,  and,  Bud  could 
see,  much  thinner.  He  seemed  to  have  little  inclina 
tion  to  get  up,  and  there  was  about  him  the  patience 


142  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

and  gentleness  that  gives  one  such  an  unquiet,  appre 
hensive  feeling  when  he  is  about  a  sickbed.  He  was 
so  cheerful  and  so  full  of  pleasant  talk  that,  as  Bud's 
fears  for  him  would  become  oppressive,  some  reminis 
cence  of  old  days  would  give  him  such  pleasure  in  the 
telling  of  it,  and  he  would  laugh  in  so  light-hearted 
a  way,  Bud  would  think,  "  Surely  he  can't  be  badly 
injured." 

But  the  time  came  when  he  had  no  appetite,  could 
not  eat,  and  his  legs  seemed  to  have  lost  their  strength. 
They  had  a  little  flour  left,  and  coffee  and  meat  rounded 
out  the  commissariat,  but  Zeb  had  no  taste  for  simple 
food  now. 

One  evening  Bud  said,  "  Zeb,  I've  been  thinking  it 
over,  and  I  believe  I  can  snowshoe  into  Placerville  or 
somewhere  else  and  see  a  doctor,  tell  him  just  how  you 
are,  and  bring  back  something  to  help  you." 

"  No,  ye  won't,"  said  Zeb.  "  Ye  couldn't  make  it, 
and  then  somebody  would  be  a-follering  ye  in  here  if 
they  smelt  the  gold.  No,  Bud,  that  won't  do.  I  have 
thought  it  over  for  days  as  how  'twas  best  for  ye.  I 
thought  I  wouldn't  tell  ye,  but  I  think  I  will.  Bud, 
I'm  a-going  to  die.  I  know  it,  and  it  will  be  lonesome 
like  for  ye;  but  that's  what  I  can't  save  ye,  Bud.  Ef 
I  only  could!  " 

"No,  Zeb,  no;  it  isn't  so.  You  will  be  all  right 
yet;  I  know  you  will." 

"No,  Bud,  I  won't.  If  I  was  on  the  outside, 
where  there  was  a  good  doctor,  I  doubt  if  it  would  be 
differnt;  but  here  I've  got  to  hit  the  trail.  It  seems 
like  a  mean,  ornery  thing  to  do  to  ye,  Bud,  but  it 
can't  be  helped;  it  can't  be.  Some  day  I'll  go,  and 
ye'll  do  what  I  asked  ye — all  them  things. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  143 

"  'Twill  be  lonesome  like  for  ye,  but  ye'll  keep  on 
working  and  the  gold  will  come  out,  lots  of  it.  When 
the  water  is  gone  and  ye  can't  work  no  more,  ye'll  go 
to  New  York.  I'd  a  thought  to  make  the  trip  with 
ye  and  stand  by  ye  through  the  thing,  but  I  can't, 
Bud,  I  can't.  That  worries  me  the  worst  of  any 
thing;  but  ye  must  do  it  alone.  And,  Bud,  mind  ye, 
yer  young  and  yer  keerless.  Don't  never  go  without 
yer  gun ;  a  man  never  knows  when  he  wants  it.  I 
was  a- thinking  how  I'd  be  along  and  take  a  keer  of 
ye." 

"  It  can't  be,  Zeb,  it  can't  be!  "  said  Bud,  and  still 
he  felt  in  his  heart  it  might  be.  "  I  couldn't  live  here 
without  you,  Zeb.  Zeb,  I  can't  lose  you.  You  will 
be  better;  I  know  you  will." 

"Mebbe,  Bud,  mebbe." 

That  night  and  the  next  day  Bud  turned  it  over  in 
his  own  mind,  pro  and  con.  If  there  was  a  chance  at 
all  for  Zeb,  it  was  to  see  some  doctor,  get  him  to  come 
back  with  him  if  he  would,  but  that  he  doubted,  or  to 
tell  him  accurately  Zeb's  symptoms,  and  there  might  be 
a  chance — who  knew  ? — that  he  might  give  him  some 
thing  that  would  save  him.  Could  Zeb  get  along 
without  him  ?  He  would  walk  night  and  day,  i  i  and 
in  ten  days  I  can  be  back,  surely,"  he  thought.  "  Zeb 
can  get  around  a  little,  and  I'll  fill  the  cabin  with 
wood,  and  get  the  food  handy  for  him,  and  he  might 
get  along.  I'll  make  it  some  way,  I  know.  I  believe 
it's  the  only  chance,  and  I'll  try  it,"  he  said  to  himself . 
That  noon  he  came  up  to  the  cabin.  "I  don't  feel 
like  working, "  he  said  to  Zeb.  "I  believe  I'll  cut 
some  wood;  I  think  I'll  cut  a  big  pile  of  it,  for  every 
night  I  have  to  shovel  out  the  snow  to  get  at  it ;  "  and 


144  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

so  he  did.  He  filled  up  one  side  of  the  cabin  with 
wood  and  left  the  matches  handy ;  he  baked  a  lot  of 
bread  and  brought  a  quantity  of  dried  meat  in,  and 
put  everything  in  as  convenient  reach  as  possible.  Zeb 
watched  him  with  languid  interest. 

"  There  ain't  nothing  lazy  'bout  ye,  Bud,"  he  said; 
"  ye  quit  work  below,  and  here  ye've  been  a-going  it. 
'Pears  like  yer  doing  something  all  the  time.  Yer  a 
help  to  me,  Bud,  and  yer  a  comfort.  I  hain't  took  to 
no  man,  'cept  Yank,  like  I  has  to  you." 

The  snowshoes  were  made  ready,  and  bread  and 
dried  meat  put  in  an  old  flour  sack,  and  matches  were 
put  in  every  pocket  he  had  by  Bud.  He  wrote  in  large, 
plain  letters,  telling  Zeb  he  had  gone  to  the  doctor's; 
that  he  might  depend  on  his  being  back  in  about  ten 
days;  that  everything  was  put  handy  for  him;  and 
ended  by  saying:  "  Keep  up  courage,  Zeb;  I'll  be 
back  with  something  to  help  you  soon." 

Never  was  Zeb  more  cheery  than  on  that  evening. 
The  only  allusion  he  made  to  himself  was  a  stray  bit 
of  advice  to  Bud  about  how  to  handle  the  water  of  the 
spring  flood. 

"  I  mayn't  be  here,  and  I  thought  I'd  fix  it  easy  for 
ye,"  he  said,  "so  ye'd  know  how  to  do  well  as  if  I 
was  here. ' ' 

"  Zeb,  I  can't  bear  to  have  you  talk  so.  You  will  be 
here;  you  are  not  going  to  leave  me,"  Bud  would  say. 

"  Mebbe  so,  mebbe  so,"  the  old  man  would  answer. 
"  I  tell  ye,  Bud,  we're  men,  and  there's  something  for 
me  to  face;  and,  I'm  sorry,  Bud,  being  as  we  are  alone 
here  together,  something  for  ye.  It's  death  I'm  a-run- 
nin'  up  agin.  It's  a-being  without  me,  it's  being  all 
alone  and  the  lack  of  me  on  the  work,  that's  coming  to 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  145 

you.  We've  got  to  make  the  best  of  it,  both  on  us. 
When  a  man  gets  nigh  the  end,  it's  a  nateral  thing  for 
him  to  hate  to  go  out  of  the  world,  and  I've  been  a 
\vressling  with  the  idee  every  day  for  two  weeks.  I 
would  like  to  see  ye  through  that  thing  in  New  York; 
ye'll  want  a  man  with  ye.  I'd  like  to  live  till  we  clean 
up,  and  hate  to  go  now;  seems  like  desarting  of  ye, 
when  ye  need  me,  Bud;  but  it's  got  to  be  as  it  is,  and 
I  know  ye' 11  be  lonesome  and  all  that;  that  part  of  it 
is  hard.  But  it's  a  comfort  to  me  that  we've  struck 
it;  that  ye' 11  send  the  money  where  I  want  it  to  go. 
Ye  don't  know  what  a  comfort  that  is.  Why,  Bud, 
it's  something  I  have  been  a-longing  for  for  years;  it's 
something  I've  been  praying  for;  and  when  a  man 
wants  a  thing  like  that  he  don't  give  a  darn  for  his  life 
'side  of  it.  I  hain't  been  a  pious  man,  God  knows, 
but  he'll  see  how  'twas  with  me;  it's  a  dang  hard  life 
to  be  good  in,  but  I  hain't  no  real  bad  thing  on  my 
conscience,  and  I  kin  hold  up  my  head  afore  him  and 
take  my  medicine.  If  I  kin  only  git  to  Yank,  if  only 
I  kin.  How  do  you  think  it  is,  Bud  ?  Does  a  man 
know  what's  going  on  here  after  he  dies  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,  Zeb;  no  one  does.  That's  all  a 
mystery.  We'll  all  know,  sometime,  but  it's  going 
to  be  a  long  time  for  both  of  us,  I  hope,  before  we 
do." 

"  Mebbe,  mebbe;  seems  like  I  could  see  more  nor  I 
could.  I  see  ye,  Bud,  making  this  thing  of  yers  all 
right;  I  see  ye  married  to  the  girl,  and  little  children 
about  ye,  living  as  ye  ought  to  live,  where  there  are 
folks,  and  them  folks  making  much  of  ye.  Say,  Bud, 
if  ye  have  a  boy,  give  him  my  gun  when  ye  die,  and 
tell  him,  when  he's  a  little  one,  how  it  was  with  an 
10 


140  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

old  feller  who  carried  it  from  Mexico  to  Allasky,  and 
how  it  never  spoke  when  it  didn't  have  cause,  and 
how  true  it  talked  then.  Tell  him  'bout  Yank;  ye 
never  knew  him,  but  ye've  heerd  from  me.  Teach 
him  to  speak  the  truth  and  to  love  his  country  and  his 
flag.  I  want  to  think  something  I've  told  ye  'bout 
Yank  will  get  into  his  little  heart,  and  when  the  time 
comes  that  may  come  to  him,  he'll  be  a  good  soldier 
and  f oiler  the  flag  as  Yank  did.  Larning  is  good 
for  boys,  but  the  idee  of  the  country  and  the  flag's 
the  main  p'int.  Ye' 11  tell  him  I  asked  ye  to  give  him 
the  old  gun  and  my  blessing.  And  when  ye  marry 
the  girl,  as  ye  will,  Bud,  tell  her  how  I  knew  'twould 
come.  Say  to  her,  '  Old  Zeb  is  a-chuckling  to  himself 
in  his  grave  over  it,  'cause  he  knows  she's  got  a  man — 
a  man  he  loved.'  God  bless  ye,  my  boy.  Yer  eddi- 
cated,  and  yer  ways  are  so  differnt  and  yer  life's  been 
so  differnt,  but  ye  made  me  yer  equal  and  yer  friend, 
and  I  love  ye.  Ye'll  mind  the  letter  and  what  I  told 
ye  'bout  the  mine.  Don't  have  nothing  to  do  with  no 
bank,  but  Wells,  Fargo;  they're  sure  as  death.  Don't 
let  Bally 's  manners  matter;  ye'll  treat  him  well  'cause 
of  me,  I  know  ye  will. ' ' 

And  then  Zeb  called  to  mind  an  old  frolic  of  Yank 
and  himself  in  Yreka,  and  that  led  on  to  his  giving  an 
account  of  Yank's  familiarity  with  the  Bible.  "I'd 
give  anything  if  I  could  think  of  them  texts  he  used 
to  say ;  they  fit  into  whatever  come  along  like  a  ball 
in  a  gun-barrel." 

Bud  tried  to  encourage  him,  to  make  him  think  less 
positively  of  death,  but  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  it.  Should  he  go  or  remain  ?  There 
was  a  faint  chance  that  he  could  do  something  for  him 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  147 

by  seeing  a  doctor.  Bud  could  not  let  the  chance,  even 
if  it  was,  as  he  was  beginning  to  feel,  a  desperate  one, 
slip. 

As  the  time  came  for  turning  into  his  bunk  he  had 
Zeb's  hand  in  his,  and  with  a  pathos  in  his  voice  that 
the  knowledge  of  his  leaving  made  more  pathetic,  he 
said,  "  Zeb,  you've  been  the  truest  friend  to  me  I  have 
ever  had ;  since  I  have  been  with  you  I  have  learned 
what  a  man  is.  Whatever  comes,  you'll  know  I  am  a 
friend  who  loves  you  and  doing  what  a  friend  can. 
Good  night,  Zeb.  God  bless  you,  old  man,"  and  with 
a  quick  burst  of  sentiment  he  leaned  over,  and,  to  Zeb's 
astonishment,  kissed  him. 

' '  Ye  have  curous  ways,  Bud, ' '  he  said,  ' '  but  yer  a 
man;  that's  in  my  heart.  Good  night  to  ye." 

It  was  not  long  before  the  old  man  was  asleep,  and 
very  cautiously  Bud  moved  to  him  and  pinned  to  the 
wall,  where  he  could  not  fail  to  see  it,  the  paper  he 
had  written.  The  fire  gave  a  little  light,  and  the 
peaceful  face  he  looked  down  on  almost  diverted  him 
from  his  purpose,  but  he  felt  he  must  take  the  one 
chance  there  seemed  to  be. 

Very  noiselessly  he  took  his  revolver,  its  cartridge- 
belt,  and  his  little  sack  of  provisions,  looked  around 
the  cabin  to  see  that  all  was  left  as  easy  for  Zeb  to  get 
at  as  possible,  and  went  out. 

The  moon  was  in  its  third  quarter,  and  it  was  nearly 
as  light  as  day.  Getting  on  his  snowshoes,  with  his 
pole  in  his  hand  and  his  little  sack  across  his  shoul 
ders,  he  slowly  moved  away  from  the  cabin,  often  look 
ing  back  until  the  trees  hid  it  from  view.  He  had  not 
taken  a  blanket  with  him,  for  he  needed  to  be  as 
lightly  loaded  as  possible,  and  intended  at  night  to 


148  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

make  a  big  fire  and  snatch  what  sleep  he  could 
before  it. 

The  snow  was  in  excellent  condition  and  he  went 
swiftly  on.  But  on  where  ?  From  the  mountain  top 
which  Zeb  and  he  had  climbed  there  was  in  his  mind  a 
general  idea  of  his  course  and  where  the  settlements 
lay,  but  that  was  all.  He  knew  he  must  go  south  and 
a  little  east,  and  between  Bernard  Mountain  and  Scott's 
Peak,  in  which  direction  Zeb,  as  he  pointed  them  out, 
had  told  him  lay  the  habitations  of  men.  A  sense  of 
the  difficulty  of  the  task  he  had  set  himself  to  do  came 
to  him  more  forcibly  than  ever  before,  but  his  was  no 
heart  to  falter.  He  was  young  and  strong,  of  a  hardy 
constitution  and  powerful  muscular  frame,  which  the 
life  he  had  led  the  past  six  months  had  strengthened 
and  developed;  then  he  had  acquired  an  aptness  on 
snowshoes,  but,  better  than  all,  the  stimulus  of  love 
for  Zeb  and  the  hope  of  saving  his  life  nerved  him. 
A  hundred  and  fifty  miles  as  we  ride  it  on  an  express 
train  seems  a  short  distance,  but  through  an  uninhabited 
country,  with  snow  from  five  to  twenty  feet  deep  cov 
ering  it,  with  no  shelter,  nothing  to  eat  or  use  but 
what  one  carries  on  his  back,  with  great  mountain 
divides  to  cross,  it  is  another  thing,  quite  another  thing, 
when  it  is  to  be  travelled  alone. 

To  a  man  experienced  in  such  a  way  of  travelling, 
who  knows  the  trail  as  you  do  the  way  to  your  busi 
ness  or  to  your  neighbors,  such  a  trip  is  no  light  one, 
and  such  a  man  would  attempt  it  only  under  some  such 
incentive  as  urged  Bud  to  it.  But  here  was  a  young 
fellow,  strong  and  active,  it  is  true,  but  lacking  in  the 
endurance  which  comes  only  from  the  strains  such  trips 
give,  only  a  few  months  from  the  city,  ignorant  of  all 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  149 

save  the  general  course  he  was  to  go.  Few  men,  per 
haps,  ever  took  part  in  a  more  forlorn  hope;  with  him, 
however,  there  was  that  blissful  ignorance  of  its  diffi 
culties  that,  after  all,  is  an  element  of  success  in  many 
undertakings.  True,  he  knew  it  was  a  difficult  thing 
to  do,  but  how  difficult  and  how  desperate  he  could 
not  know. 

Before  sunrise  he  had  climbed  and  crossed  the  divide 
that  made  the  rim  of  the  basin.  The  moon  made  the 
two  far-away  peaks  discernible,  and  between  them  his 
way  lay.  In  the  early  morning  light  he  sped  down 
from  the  summit  where  he  had  stopped  to  fix  clearly 
in  his  mind  the  track  he  was  to  follow.  The  canon 
made  by  the  river  lay  along  his  way ;  he  would  follow 
along  it.  After  sunrise  he  stopped  a  bit  and  ate  some 
bread,  and  dried  meat.  All  that  day  he  pushed  on 
over  a  country  of  low,  broken  hills,  with  occasionally 
a  little  valley  and  a  higher  hill  to  climb  and  ride  down 
on  his  snowshoes.  Before  night  he  stopped  where  an 
abundance  of  dry  timber,  fallen  here  and  there,  with 
the  tops  of  the  dried  black  pines  caught  against  some 
living  tree,  gave  fuel  for  his  fire.  He  had  not  encum 
bered  himself  with  an  axe,  and  had  to  depend  on  break 
ing,  by  main  strength,  branches  and  the  smaller  pieces 
of  wood,  or  putting  on  bodily  the  logs  he  could  drag 
up  and  let  the  fire  burn  them  in  two.  He  had  his  big 
knife,  to  use  in  making  the  fire.  He  made  a  great 
blaze,  and  drew  before  it  two  logs  as  large  as  he 
could  master,  on  which  he  could  sit  or  lie  out  of  the 
snow  and  rest,  if  he  could  not  sleep.  He  munched 
his  bread  and  jerked  venison,  and  waited  for  the  long 
night  to  pass.  He  determined,  if  the  weather  re 
mained  clear,  to  use  the  night  for  travelling,  and  rest 


150  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

when  the  sun  was  up;  for  the  chilliness  of  the  air 
went  through  him,  and  his  clothes,  damp  from  perspi 
ration,  made  him  shiver  when  he  turned  from  the  fire. 
He  was  tired  and  sore,  for  he  had,  he  calculated,  been 
fully  nineteen  hours  on  his  snowshoes,  but  he  was 
pleased  with  his  progress ;  he  must  have  gone  over  two 
miles  an  hour,  he  thought ;  but  to  be  sure  he  put  it  at 
forty  miles,  though  he  felt  he  had  probably  made 
nearer  fifty.  At  any  rate,  he  was  very  tired,  and  fell 
into  fitful  slumbers,  from  which  he  would  wake  half 
frozen,  and  make  the  fire  blaze  up  again,  and  warm 
himself  at  it,  and  then  doze  off  again ;  so  a  long  night 
passed,  and  the  break  of  dawn  was  pleasant  to  his 
eyes,  and,  better  still,  the  rising  of  the  sun  in  its  clear 
winter  glory.  It  was  hardly  sunrise,  though,  before 
he  was  on  his  way  again. 

That  day  he  walked  until  afternoon,  a  little  stiffly 
at  first,  but  soon  his  old  swing  came  back  to  him,  and 
he  thought,  when  he  stopped  to  make  a  fire,  that  he 
had  gone  fifteen  miles  or  so,  and  probably  sixty  since 
he  had  started. 

He  made  his  fire  and  ate  the  little  portion  he  had 
in  his  mind  as  a  proper  division  of  what  he  had,  and 
lying  down  in  the  warm  sun,  with  the  fire  adding  to 
the  heat,  he  slept  a  few  hours,  until  the  chilliness  of 
evening  roused  him. 

In  a  way,  the  ground  he  had  gone  over  was,  to  a 
certain  extent,  familiar  to  him,  for  over  much  the 
same  course  had  Zeb  and  he  come  from  Cape  Horn 
when  they  entered  the  Yellow  Pine  Basin ;  and  though 
he  could  by  no  means  follow  the  way  they  had  come, 
so  much  did  the  deep  snow  change  the  appearance  of 
the  country,  yet  here  and  there  he  recognized  familiar 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  151 

objects  in  some  rounded  hill  or  great  upturned  rock ; 
and  in  a  general  way  the  river,  which  he  was  going  up, 
would,  he  knew,  bring  him  to  Cape  Horn.  There 
were  cabins — there  might  be  men  in  them — perhaps 
twenty  miles  from  there,  towards  Stanley,  but  there 
was  no  doctor  there,  nor  for  a  long  distance  beyond, 
and  it  was  very  doubtful  if  there  was  any  one  at  the 
cabins,  and  he  felt  he  could  not  risk  going  there.  At 
the  settlements  he  had  started  for,  Zeb  had  said  there 
were  doctors,  and  there  he  determined  to  go.  The 
moon  still  gave  him  light,  though  clouds  were  coming 
up,  but  they  by  no  means  obscured  it,  and  the  snow 
was  still  hard.  That  night  he  had  made  good  head 
way,  though  he  was  beginning  to  feel  the  wear  of  the 
walk  and  suffered  from  lack  of  sleep ;  his  broken  and 
uneasy  slumbers,  for  he  could  only  doze  an  hour  or 
two  at  a  time,  gave  him  little  rest,  but  the  absorbing 
importance  of  his  mission  kept  him  on  his  weary  walk. 

When  morning  came  he  was  nearing  Cape  Horn, 
and  when  the  sun  rose  he  stopped  for  rest  near  where 
Cape  Horn  Creek  meets  that  other,  then  nameless,  one, 
which  rises  near  the  summit  of  the  Bear  Yalley  divide, 
and,  uniting  with  it,  pours  its  waters  into  the  Salmon 
below. 

On  the  hillside  above  him  came  from  out  of  the 
snow  a  rough-hewn  plank,  showing  a  foot  or  two  of 
its  end,  and  marking,  as  he  knew,  for  Zeb  had  told 
him  of  it,  the  grave  of  a  man  killed  in  some  Indian 
skirmish  but  a  year  or  two  before,  one  of  those  perish 
able  mementoes  of  the  lives  that  have  been  lost  in  the 
long  fight  that  has  won  to  peace  and  growing  civiliza 
tion  our  western  empire.  On  hill  and  in  valley  sleep 
those  who  fell;  crumbling,  unsubstantial  tombstones 


152  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

have  some,  others  none ;  but  to  them  rises  up  an  ever 
growing  monument,  its  foundations,  constitutions  of 
States ;  the  great  blocks  above  them,  laws  of  prosper 
ous  commonwealths  laid  in  the  cement  of  justice  to 
all,  of  peace,  of  good  will;  the  years  adding  to  its 
towering  height,  till,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  shall 
crown  it  all  some  figure  emblematic  of  that  perfect 
man  whom  the  millennium  will  find  upon  the  earth. 

Making  a  fire  and  eating  his  meagre  breakfast,  bring 
ing  up  before  the  fire  some  logs  that  he  might  stretch 
himself  upon,  took  little  time,  and  Bud  was  soon  tak 
ing  such  sleep  as  the  hardness  of  his  bed  allowed. 

That  all  roads  led  to  Home  was  a  feature  in  the  old 
world  travel ;  no  less  positive  a  one  in  that  portion  of 
Idaho  we  are  speaking  of  is  that  all  roads  lead  to  Cape 
Horn.  Does  a  man  desire  to  go  anywhere,  the  moun 
tain  ranges  converge  his  trails  to  Cape  Horn,  for  there 
is  the  best  pass  in  all  the  mountains. 

To  the  west  of  it  lies  Bear  Yalley,  separated  from 
it  by  some  twelve  miles  or  so  of  distance,  and  by  only 
a  moderate  rise  of  divide.  Crossing  into  the  valley, 
which,  like  a  clover  leaf,  is  divided  into  three  parts, 
and  going  up  the  easterly  division,  along  a  tributary 
of  the  Salmon,  you  travel  some  fifteen  miles  or  so 
until,  by  an  almost  imperceptible  rise  from  that  side, 
you  go  down  to  the  waters  of  the  Deadwood.  To  the 
right  of  this  is  Bernard  Mountain,  so  called  after  a 
gallant  officer  who,  a  year  or  two  before  the  time  we 
are  speaking  of,  led  an  expedition  against  the  Indians, 
then  troublesome  in  the  country  to  the  north;  and 
away  to  the  south  of  it  looms  up  Scott's  Peak,  its 
name  the  only  memorial  of  an  early  pioneer,  the  high 
est  mountain  in  the  high,  steep  range  across  the  Dead- 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  153 

wood.  Beyond  this  range  somewhere  was  our  snow- 
shoer's  destination. 

The  sun  now,  as  the  months  of  spring  in  more 
favored  localities  were  near  at  hand,  was  higher  in  the 
heavens,  and  a  mildness  in  the  air,  through  which  its 
rays  came  down  upon  the  sleeping  man,  helped  out 
the  hard  bed  the  logs  on  which  he  lay  made,  and  gave 
him  more  restful  sleep  than  he  had  yet  had,  and  it 
was  well  towards  sundown  when  the  uneasy  turnings 
his  rough  couch  caused  him  to  make  were  disturbing 
enough  to  awaken  him. 

He  doled  out  to  himself  his  prescribed  ration  of 
bread  and  jerked  meat,  and  taking  a  drink  of  water, 
Bud  began  again  his  monotonous  tramp.  Under  the 
genial  sun  and  in  the  warm  air  the  snow  had  softened, 
and  laboriously  he  plodded  on,  his  shoes  clogging  and 
sinking  deeply.  It  was  well  along  in  the  night  when 
he  crossed  the  divide  into  Bear  Yalley  and  experienced 
the  delightful  sensation  of  being  helped  by  his  shoes, 
instead  of  retarded,  as  he  went  down  hill.  Towards 
morning  the  snow  became  a  little  hard  again.  Aided 
by  the  light  from  the  now  only  occasionally  percept 
ible  moon,  he  directed  his  course  towards  the  point 
where  its  light  had  shown  him,  from  the  divide,  the 
mountain  range  in  which  seemed  to  lie  the  two  peaks 
his  way  should  lead  between;  and  through  the  flat 
valley,  which  had  gradually  narrowed,  and  beside  a 
stream  which,  frozen  over  here  and  there,  sluggishly 
traversed  it,  he  made  his  way  with  weary  body  but 
stout  heart.  If  he  could  only  get  back  in  time;  if  he 
could  only  bring  some  relief;  if  there  was  anything 
that  could  relieve !  At  times  the  snow  would  be  hard 
enough  to  bear  him,  and  then  he  would  sink  in  it  a 


154  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

few  inches,  but  still,  with  unconquerable  determina 
tion,  with  unfaltering,  persistent  stride,  he  slowly  put 
the  miles  behind  him. 

As  morning  neared,  the  snow  was  stiffer,  and  he 
made  up  his  mind  to  plod  along  until  the  sun  of  another 
day  should  soften  it.  With  machine-like  regularity  he 
moved  his  legs,  sliding  the  shoes  along,  counting  their 
movements  as  he  might  the  swinging  pendulum  of  some 
great  clock,  and  checking  off  each  hundred  steps  upon 
his  fingers.  Dawn  came,  and  the  machine  was  work 
ing;  the  sun  rose,  and  still  the  measured  swing  of  leg 
kept  on,  and  hot  fell  the  solar  beams  before  was  turned 
off  from  it  the  steam  of  the  strong  will  that  had  made 
Bud's  numbed  limbs  respond  to  its  impelling  force  as 
does  steel  shaft  in  the  engines  made  in  shops  to  the 
vapors  of  water. 

He  had  now  been  out  three  days  and  more,  and  it 
was  with  delight  that  he  saw  Bernard  Mountain  to  the 
right  and  nearly  even  with  him;  Scott's  Peak  he  could 
see  also,  and  between  them,  right  in  his  course,  the 
Dead  wood  Range,  across  which  his  way  lay.  He  made 
his  fire  well  down  from  the  divide,  towards  the  Dead- 
wood. 

Fortunately,  when  he  awoke  from  his  sleep,  a  grow 
ing  coldness  in  the  air  and  a  clear  sky  indicated  that 
the  storm  he  had  dreaded  had  gone  by,  and  bespoke 
for  him  better  travelling.  He  rose  very  weary,  but 
his  goal  seemed  nearing,  and  with  a  lighter  heart  he 
again  began  his  tramp. 

In  some  ten  miles  or  thereabouts  he  crossed  the 
Dead  wood  where  it  ran  slowly  and  the  ice  had  bridged 
it,  and  began  the  toilsome  climbing  of  the  mountain 
that  to  the  south  of  it  separated  such  settlements  as 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  155 

there  then  were  from  the  wilderness  through  which  he 
had  come.  The  snow  was  hard,  not  with  that  solid, 
icy  hardness  that  makes  ascent  tedious  from  the  slip 
ping  back  of  the  shoes,  but  hard  enough  to  sustain 
them,  with  only  enough  of  sinking  to  keep  them  from 
slipping.  A  new  strength  had  come  to  him ;  he  was 
on  the  last  forty  miles,  he  knew,  and  only  forty  miles 
away  lay  Zeb's  possible  salvation ;  now  it  was  thirty- 
nine,  and  now  it  was  thirty -eight,  and  though  steep 
and  rough  was  the  way,  his  rising  spirits  gave  vim  and 
vigor  to  him.  By  early  morning  he  was  on  the 
divide,  and  the  fast-coming  light  saw  him  riding  on 
his  shoes  with  the  speed  of  the  wind,  decreasing  the 
distance  before  him  as  the  long  downward  stretches 
gave  him  opportunity,  and  climbing  again  some  small 
rise  that  raised  the  grade,  which,  from  the  summit  of 
these  mountains,  drops  to  the  south  fork  of  the  Pay- 
ette,  almost  three  thousand  feet,  in  a  little  over  twenty 
miles.  By  noon  the  fork  of  the  Payette  lay  before 
him,  only  a  few  miles  away,  and  by  two  o'clock  he 
was  on  its  bank  and  searching  for  solid  ice  to  cross  on ; 
this  he  found,  and  up  into  the  quickly  rising  ground 
from  it  he  went. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  HIGH  range  of  hills  encircles  with  its  rim  the  Boise 
Basin,  in  which  lie  Idaho  City,  Centreville,  and  Placer- 
ville,  centres  for  trade  and  traffic  of  the  region  about 
them.  In  them  are  dwelling-houses,  China  shacks, 
saloons,  gambling-houses,  mercantile  establishments, 
and  such  other  structures  as  the  needs,  virtues,  and 
vices  of  their  indwellers  demand.  Law  and  Medicine 
represent  there  the  learned  professions,  the  Church 
only  intermittingly  venturing  into  the  field,  and  grop 
ing  with  irresolute  and  vacillating  endeavors  after  the 
souls  whose  earthly  forms  serve  in  its  traffic,  support 
its  saloons,  or  through  the  long  winter  are  lined  up 
against  the  big  stoves  that  warm  the  resorts  of  sale 
and  barter  or  the  temples  of  Bacchus.  Much  given 
are  the  winter  frequenters  of  these  towns  to  tales  of 
their  own  valor  in  the  past,  and  to  reminiscences  of 
glorious  bygone  times  when  gold  was  to  be  had,  it 
seems,  for  the  mere  picking  up  of  the  nuggets ;  sink 
ing  deep  shafts,  running  great  tunnels,  building  great 
ditches,  in  their  minds,  that,  when  the  working  season 
comes,  will  have  melted  away  as  has  the  snow  that 
clogs  the  streets. 

The  virtues  of  such  centres  are  their  own,  and  they 
are  strong  and  many;  their  follies  have  either  an 
amusing  or  a  pitiful  side,  and  the  sum  of  them  all  is 
expressed  in  such  good-natured,  hearty  good  will  and 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  157 

helpfulness  for  all  physical  suffering,  that  whoever  has 
not  a  warm  place  in  his  heart  for  the  dwellers  in  them 
knows  them  not. 

The  stores  had  closed,  and  the  more  domestic  and 
home-loving  population  of  Placerville  were  asleep.  On 
three  sides  of  the  Plaza,  which  occupies  the  centre 
of  the  little  town,  the  light  streamed  from  the  saloon 
windows,  where  were  going  on  faro  and  poker,  jigger, 
and  the  other  games  of  cards  which  serve  to  circu 
late  for  a  time  the  loose  money  of  the  community 
among  the  votaries  of  chance  and  the  temporary 
believers  in  their  own  skill  or  luck,  and  which,  when 
spring  comes,  have  it  all  securely  stowed  away  in  the 
safes  of  the  saloon  keepers. 

There  was  hard  drinking  and  rough  words,  with 
many  an  oath,  in  one  of  them,  when,  at  the  top  of 
their  speed,  came  two  foaming  horses,  dragging  a 
sleigh  in  which  were  two  men,  one  driving,  the  other 
half  lying  in  the  bottom.  The  noise  of  the  sleigh  and 
its  panting  horses  brought  all  to  the  door,  save  some 
keen  gamblers,  who,  at  one  or  the  other  of  the  green 
baize-covered  tables  in  the  big  room,  were  too  much 
absorbed  in  their  game  to  even  turn  their  heads. 

"  What's  up,  Joe?  "  said  the  first  one  out. 

"  I've  got  a  man  here  all  beat  out  and  wants  to  see 
the  doctor.  His  pardner's  sick  somewhere  in  the  moun 
tains  on  Salmon,  and  he's  come  in  for  medicine;  he's 
'bout  give  out  himself.  Here,  some  of  ye  help  me  in 
with  him." 

But  Bud,  for  it  was  he,  needed  little  help,  and  came 
into  the  great  room,  the  centre  of  a  crowd  of  sympa 
thizing  friends.  These  men  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance.  They  knew  where  the  mountains  "  on  Sal- 


158  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

mon  ' '  were,  and  the  long  miles  away  they  were ;  they 
knew  the  toil  it  was  to  come  from  them;  they  felt  the 
strength  of  the  tie  that  made  this  young  fellow  take 
such  a  trip  for  his  partner,  and  one  look  at  him,  as 
worn  and  stiff  he  stood  among  them,  waked  the 
gentleness  and  sympathy  which,  deep  down  in  the 
natures  of  such  men,  but  needs  some  like  cause  to 
bring  it  to  the  surface. 

"  Sit  down  here.  Bring  the  man  some  whiskey, 
can't  ye?"  roared  out  the  deep  voice  of  the  saloon 
keeper  to  the  man  behind  the  bar.  ' '  Put  some  wood 
in,  Link,  and  start  up  the  fire.  Down  with  the  whis 
key  and  warm  up,"  he  said  to  Bud;  "you  had  a  long 
trip,  hadn't  ye?"  This  one  asked  him  if  his  boots 
had  better  not  come  off,  and  started  to  pull  them ;  and 
another  ran  to  his  cabin  and  came  back  with  a  great 
pile  of  cold  beans  on  a  tin  plate,  insisting  he  must  eat; 
while  a  giant  of  a  man  ordered  the  bar-keeper  to  bring 
cigars;  and  all  with  ready  sympathy  stood  around 
him,  asking  no  questions,  but  evidently  waiting  for 
him  to  speak. 

The  driver  had  put  up  his  horses  and  came  in,  and 
up  to  the  bar,  after  seeing  that  Bud  was  being  prop 
erly  attended  to. 

' '  Leave  him  alone, ' '  he  said.  ' '  He's  dead  for  sleep, 
and  the  whiskey  and  the  fire  will  do  him  good;  "  and 
as  he  spoke,  Bud  dropped  into  a  slumber. 

As  they  all  ranged  up  against  the  bar,  Joe  Ladd,  a 
rancher  in  a  valley  twelve  miles  away,  told  his  story. 

"  I  was  up  the  hill,  'cross  Alder  Creek,  looking  out  a 
tree  to  make  shakes,  and  see  this  feller  coming  along; 
he  was  some  ways  off,  but  soon  as  I  see  him  I  knew 
he  was  beat  out.  He'd  push  the  shoes,  and  then  he'd 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  159 

stop  and  almost  fall  down,  and  then  he'd  plug  along, 
and  he  fell,  but  he  got  up  agin,  and  he  had  hard  work 
to  do  it.  I  ran  down  to  him,  and  he  says,  '  Where  is 
Placerville,  and  is  there  a  doctor  there  ?  ' 

"  He  said  his  partner  was  sick;  he  was  come  to  see 
a  doctor  and  get  something  for  him.  He  was  clean 
give  out,  and  said  he'd  come  one  hundred  and  fifty 
miles,  and  way  below  Cape  Horn.  I  helped  him 
along,  for  he  was  about  snow-blind,  and  got  him  down 
to  the  cabin.  'Take  me  to  the  doctor,'  he  says;  'I 
must  see  him. '  I  wanted  him  to  lay  over  till  morn 
ing,  but  he  said  every  hour  counted,  so  I  hitched  up 
the  horses  and  brought  him  in  here." 

The  doctor  had  been  aroused  by  some  one,  and  came 
in  just  as  Bud  woke  up.  The  stimulant  and  his  short 
sleep  had  a  little  refreshed  him,  and  he  told  the  doctor 
the  circumstances  of  Zeb's  injury,  and  gave  as  accurate 
an  account  of  his  symptoms  as  possible,  answering 
the  kind  and  searching  questions  of  the  doctor  as  best 
he  could. 

"From  what  you  say,"  said  the  medical  man, 
"there  maybe  any  one  of  several  internal  injuries, 
and  all  of  them  are  bad ;  most  of  them  fatal  in  time. 
There  is  a  chance,  however,  that  by  proper  keeping  up 
of  his  strength,  and  so  giving  nature  a  show,  he  may 
pull  through;  it's  only  a  chance,  though." 

"  Can't  you  come  back  with  me  and  see  him  ?  "  said 
Bud. 

"I  couldn't  do  that,"  the  doctor  said.  "I  never 
was  on  snowshoes,  and  I  never  could  make  it.  I  ain't 
a  hearty  man,  and  it  would  be  the  death  of  me.  No, 
I  can't  go." 

"I'd  pay  you  anything,  doctor.    I  haven't  got  much 


160  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

here,  but  I've  some  money  in  the  bank,  and  I've  got 
a  gold  watch  here,  and  I've  got  a  good  claim,  and  so 
has  Zeb,  my  partner." 

"  It's  not  to  be  thought  of.  I'm  sorry  I  can't,  but 
I  could  never  stand  it;  "  and  his  weak  physique  told 
Bud  plainly  that  it  was  so. 

"  Then,  doctor,  give  me  what  you  can,  for  I  must  go 
back  in  the  morning." 

"  You  can't  do  that,  man;  you  are  weak,  and  you 
are  blind  nearly.  You  must  rest  up  a  bit,  or  you'll 
never  make  it." 

"  I  shall  go  in  the  morning,  doctor,"  said  Bud.  "  I 
couldn't  rest  and  Zeb  dying;  every  minute  is  of  im 
portance.  I '  m  going. ' ' 

All  tried  to  dissuade  him,  but  to  no  purpose. 

A  little  knot  of  men  had  gathered  in  a  corner,  and 
among  them  Joe  the  rancher. 

1 '  Fix  up  your  stuff,  doctor, ' '  he  said.  ' '  Some  of  the 
boys  and  me  has  made  it  up.  We'll  leave  here  along 
late  tomorrow,  and  I'll  carry  him  and  Jack  Sinclair 
and  Bill  Strong  in  the  sleigh  up  as  far  as  I  can,  and  Bill 
and  Jack  will  help  him  on  a  piece,  may  be  to  the 
Dead  wood;  top  of  the  divide,  any  way.  The  snow 
will  be  hard  by  the  time  he'll  have  to  snowshoe." 

The  doctor  put  a  poultice  of  raw  potatoes  on  Bud's 
eyes,  which  now  pained  him  intolerably,  and  promised 
to  make  up  such  medicines  as  might  do  Zeb  some 
good.  Bud  was  put  to  bed,  and  soon  the  town  was 
still. 

The  next  day  Bud's  eyes  were  very  bad,  but  the 
pain  had  gone;  he  could  barely  see,  however.  The 
story  had  gotten  over  the  little  community,  and 
all  were  interested.  The  watch  vendor,  who  styled 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  161 

himself,  in  black  letters  on  a  big  white  sign  that 
strung  itself  across  the  front  of  his  modest  shop, 
"watchmaker  and  jeweller,"  a  sour,  crabbed  man, 
unsocial  and  repelling,  came  into  the  saloon  where 
Bud  sat  by  the  fire,  and  putting  in  his  hand  a  pair  of 
snow-glasses,  said,  "Take  them;  they'll  help  you;" 
and  darted  out  again  as  if  afraid  he  might  repent  of 
his  generosity  if  he  stopped  a  second,  closing  the  door 
to  a  chorus  of  "I'll  be  dang'd!  "  and  "  Bless  me!  " 
from  the  observers,  who  had  never  seen  such  a  side 
to  him.  The  landlady  of  the  hotel  gave  her  kindly 
heart  the  rein  and  killed  some  chickens,  which  her 
Chinese  cook  roasted,  and  these,  with  various  other 
dainties,  she  sent  to  Bud.  Old  Hock  Harris  left  his 
accustomed  seat  before  the  great  stove  in  the  brick 
store,  and  forced  on  him  part  of  a  bottle  of  what  he 
told  him  was  "the  likeliest  thing  he  ever  see  for  a 
man  was  caved  on;  "  a  box  of  cigars  and  bottles  of 
whiskey  came  from  the  other  saloons,  and  advice  was 
volunteered  him  by  almost  every  one. 

The  big  store-keeper  sent  word  to  him  to  come  in 
and  take  what  he  wanted,  and  the  principal  gambler 
of  the  place  appeared  with  the  most  expensive  pair  of 
boots  money  would  buy,  and  gave  them  to  him,  while 
a  natty  faro  dealer  insisted  on  his  donning  a  new  thirty- 
dollar  suit  at  his  expense.  Even  Sam  Sing,  the  boss 
Chinaman,  came  in  with  half  a  dozen  green  "china 
plasters,"  which  he  said  were  in  such  a  case  "heap 
good." 

The  kindness  of   all  touched  Bud.      He  tried  to 

restrain  this  unlooked  for  and  unnecessary  liberality, 

but  soon  seeing  it  would  be  matter  of  offence  if  he 

refused  any  thing,  the  green  table  near  him  was  cov- 

11 


162  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

ered  with  ever  augmenting  evidences  of  that  touching 
of  the  popular  heart  which  in  like  communities  the 
sufferings  and  necessities  of  the  veriest  stranger  pro 
duces. 

He  could  pay  for  nothing.  "  Yer  money  ain't  good 
here,"  was  the  way  all,  even  the  doctor,  put  it;  and 
he  could  only  thank,  with  warm  heart,  the  kindly 
folks  who  bade  him  "  Good-by  "  and  "  Good  luck  for 
ye, ' '  as,  after  noon,  Joe  and  his  two  friends  started 
away  with  him  in  the  sleigh. 

Having,  fortunately  for  him,  not  subjected  himself 
to  the  glare  of  the  sun  on  the  snow,  except  on  the  last 
day,  Bud's  eyes,  though  weak  and  hardly  of  any  use 
to  him,  had  not  been  so  badly  hurt  as  to  bring  on  a 
severe  case  of  snow-blindness,  and  they  had  already 
begun  to  mend,  for  he  had  kept  them  closed  under  his 
new  snow-glasses  as  they  rode  along. 

The  ride,  for  he  was  comfortably  seated,  seemed  to 
rest  him,  and  when  in  the  early  evening  the  horses 
had  brought  them  as  far  as  they  could,  some  sixteen 
miles  from  Placerville,  he  felt  better  than  he  had  ex 
pected,  and  ready  to  try  the  snowshoes  again,  his  body 
somewhat  strained  and  weary,  but  his  heart  cheered 
by  the  helpful  spirit  of  all  he  had  met,  and  with  the 
hope  of  relief  he  had  for  Zeb. 

He  could  not  carry  a  tenth  of  the  many  things  that 
had  been  forced  on  him  and  which  were  in  the  sleigh. 
The  doctor's  medicines,  a  bottle  of  whiskey,  some  of 
the  provisions,  and  the  coat  of  the  suit  he  took,  leav 
ing  the  other  things  with  an  injunction  to  the  good- 
natured  rancher  to  take  care  of  them.  Jack  and  Bill, 
his  companions,  thinking  it  was  necessary,  took  a 
bottle  of  whiskey  each,  and  some  of  the  provisions. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  163 

With  the  best  wishes  of  Joe  Ladd,  the  trio  started ; 
his  new  friends  insisted  on  carrying  his  load,  and  in 
single  file,  Jack  Sinclair  in  the  lead,  they  began  to 
climb  into  the  mountains. 

Both  of  his  companions  were  hardy  mountaineers, 
but  the  winter's  rest  and  dissipation  had  added  fat 
to  their  frames,  and,  even  worn  as  he  was,  Bud  was 
better  on  the  shoes,  so  that  aside  from  their  taking  his 
load,  and  their  company,  he  was  rather  retarded  than 
helped  by  them ;  however,  if  they  held  him  back,  the 
somewhat  slow  and  deliberate  progress  made  drew  less 
on  the  reserve  of  strength  he  had. 

Morning  found  them  well  over  the  divide,  and  Bud 
insisted  that  there  was  no  need  of  their  keeping  on 
farther,  and  somewhat  reluctantly  the  kind-hearted 
fellows  parted  with  him.  Taking  his  load  and  thank 
ing  them  for  their  well-meant  exertions,  he  took  the 
down  grade  towards  the  Deadwood. 

A  few  miles  farther  on  he  made  his  fire,  and,  eating 
something,  curled  up  on  the  logs  and  slept,  starting 
again  as  night  came  on.  All  that  night  he  plodded 
on.  It  was  getting  warmer,  and  the  snow  was  soft, 
making  progress  very  difficult.  He  struck  his  old 
tracks  and  they  encouraged  him,  for  they  led  where 
he  was  going,  and  seemed  to  connect  him  with  Zeb. 
"  If  I  can  only  get  to  him  in  time ;  if  I  can  only  bring 
some  help  to  him,"  he  thought;  but  there  had  been  that 
in  what  the  doctor  said,  and  in  the  way  he  said  it,  that 
told  him  how  desperate  he  thought  Zeb's  case  was,  and 
it  grieved  him  to  the  heart  and  filled  his  mind  with 
apprehension,  though  it  no  whit  diminished  his  persist 
ence.  He  had  often  to  stop,  and  the  consciousness 
came  over  him  of  waning  strength;  but  if  his  legs 


164  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

were  weary  and  his  back  and  thigh  muscles  sore  and 
stiff,  his  heart  was  strong,  and  through  the  clogging 
snow  and  up  the  rising  ground  he  pushed  his  shoes. 

The  night  was  overcast,  masses  of  clouds  gathering, 
through  which  the  moon,  now  full,  as  it  came  up,  only 
at  times  shone  faintly  out ;  there  was  a  storm  brewing, 
and  that  added  to  Bud's  intense  eagerness  to  go  on. 
Morning  found  him  only  just  over  the  divide,  into 
Bear  Yalley,  and  there  he  felt  he  must  stop  to  rest. 
He  awoke  after  a  few  hours'  sleep,  and  though  it  was 
still  long  to  sundown,  he  started  on  his  way.  He  ran 
in  his  old  track,  for  there  the  snow  was  harder,  but  it 
was  slow,  tedious  work ;  before  night  came  he  stopped 
again  where  Elk  Creek,  coming  from  the  south,  joins 
the  Bear  Yalley  stream,  and  rested  an  hour  or  more, 
and  then  at  it  again. 

Night  shut  down  with  thickening  clouds  all  over  the 
heavens,  and  there  came  a  gentle  sighing  of  a  wind 
that  he  felt  would  in  time  bring  up  the  storm  he 
feared.  There  was  no  moon  all  night;  the  sickly 
haze  of  light  as  it  rose  indicated  that  it  was  above  the 
clouds;  but  no  sight  of  the  round  orb  came  to  cheer 
him.  All  night  he  dragged  along.  He  would  stop 
and  get  his  breath,  for  the  exertion  was  great,  and 
when  a  little  chilly  from  his  damp  clothes,  for  they 
were  steaming  from  the  perspiration  his  efforts  caused, 
he  would  start  again  and  monotonously  stride  on. 
He  felt  he  must  not  stop,  and  so  into  the  next  morn 
ing  the  shoes  ploughed  on.  At  Cape  Horn  he  stopped, 
weary  beyond  belief,  lighted  his  fire,  and  threw  him 
self  down  for  fitful  and  little  restful  sleep. 

That  day  the  clouds  broke  and  at  night  came  a  little 
frost;  the  snow  stiffened,  and  in  his  old  track  he 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  165 

walked  with  less  fatigue  than  before,  making  good 
headway,  and  cheered  in  spite  of  his  wasting  strength 
by  the  thought  he  was  nearing  Zeb. 

In  two  more  days  he  would  be  with  him  to  save  him 
if  there  was  salvation  for  him,  to  care  for  him  if  there 
was  not.  But  there  came  with  morning  another 
change;  the  dark  lines  of  clouds,  repulsed  in  their 
first  attack,  came  now  in  better  order,  well  closed  up, 
like  an  army  which,  marching  on  in  scattered  and 
unprepared  condition,  is  driven  back  by  some  tempo 
rary  and  unexpected  onset  of  its  foes,  but  when  the 
surprise  is  over  reforms  its  disciplined  battalions  into 
lines  of  battle  as  solid  and  orderly  as  they  seem  irre 
sistible. 

So  were  the  forces  of  the  storm  moving  on,  every 
gap  filled,  great  solid  masses.  All  day,  as  the  tired 
man  slept,  were  new  divisions,  heavier  batteries 
massed,  and  when  Bud  woke  the  light  skirmishing  had 
begun.  He  brushed  the  snow  from  him ;  every  hour 
was  precious  now,  and,  nerved  by  the  new  obstacle,  he 
jumped  on  his  shoes,  and  eating  his  bread  and  meat 
as  he  walked,  pushed  on. 

Of  all  the  contests  man  wages  with  the  elements, 
none  is  more  appalling  than  when  a  snow-storm  in  the 
mountains  meets  one  in  some  such  condition  of  strength 
as  Bud  then  was,  whose  knowledge  of  the  way  is  as 
superficial  as  was  his.  Besides  the  retarding  effects 
of  accumulating  snow  there  comes  this  serious,  often 
deadly,  effect:  The  vision,  limited  to  a  few  yards, 
distorted  and  uncertain  as  it  peers  through  the  falling 
snow,  can  get  no  familiar  object  in  its  short  range; 
and  even  if  one  there  should  be,  so  changes  its  appear 
ance  that  one  fails  to  recognize  it,  or  thinks  he  sees 


166  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

some  remembered  rock  or  tree,  and,  lured  by  it,  turns 
aside  to  wander  in  labyrinths  of  alternate  hope  and 
despair,  until  exhausted  he  sinks  a  victim  to  the  ruth 
less,  inexorable  tempest. 

Bud  knew  this,  but  while  his  tracks  could  be  traced 
there  was  no  danger,  for  they  led  back  to  the  cabin, 
and  some  depth  of  snow  would  have  to  fall  to  entirely 
obliterate  them;  still  it  was  a  danger  which  required 
him  to  strain  every  nerve  to  get  as  far  along  as  he 
could  before  the  track  was  gone.  At  first  the  flakes 
came  scattered  and  hesitatingly,  but  they  grew  more 
frequent  as  the  evening  came  on,  and  settled  down  at 
last  to  a  steady  fall. 

As  hour  after  hour  passed  and  the  depth  of  snow 
increased,  the  pace  which  Bud  had  taken  and  kept, 
particularly  as  his  way  was  now  up  and  down  over 
the  ridges  and  depressions  which  mark  in  every 
mountain  country  the  incoming  of  tributaries  into  a 
main  stream,  began  to  exhaust  him.  The  necessity  of 
using  each  hour  to  the  best  advantage  sustained  him 
in  a  degree,  however,  and  he  kept  on  with  the  same 
dogged  perseverance  that  had  so  long  animated  him. 

As  day  came,  many  inches  of  snow  covered  his  old 
snowshoe  marks,  and  it  was  now  more  rapidly  nearing 
the  time  when  they  would  quite  disappear.  His  mind 
concentrated  itself  on  one  thing,  the  getting  to  Zeb  as 
quickly  as  he  could. 

When  morning  fully  broke  he  was,  he  judged,  only 
thirty  miles  away  from  the  cabin,  but  the  growing 
difficulties  of  the  impeding  snow,  and  the  certainty 
that  soon  the  lines  marking  the  old  tracks  beneath 
would  no  longer  be  a  guide  to  him,  caused  his  stout 
heart  to  feel  more  apprehension  than  ever  before. 


YELLOW  PINE  SASIN  167 

He  would  not  stop  so  long  as  he  could  trace  the 
course,  and  not  until  the  blank  white  surface  before 
him  was  unbroken  by  a  single  indication  of  the  trail  it 
concealed,  and  until  even  it  was  no  longer  to  be  seen 
now  and  then  faintly  discernible  under  trees  where  the 
snow,  warded  off  by  the  overhanging  boughs,  fell  less 
deeply,  did  he  stop  to  take  a  needed  rest  and  to  pre 
pare  for  what  he  knew  was  to  be  a  hard  fight  for  his 
own  life  as  well  as  Zeb's. 

He  made  a  fire  with  difficulty,  the  snow  having 
dampened  such  dry  wood  as  he  could  find;  he  ate 
almost  the  last  of  his  provisions  and  laid  himself  down 
to  some  such  sleep  as  awaits  the  man  whose  mind  is 
prepared  for  its  being  his  last,  save  that  long  one  we 
must  all  some  time  take.  But  exhaustion,  and  perhaps 
something  of  that  desperation  whose  benumbing  effect 
brings  oblivion  to  the  criminal  on  the  night  before  his 
execution,  gave  Bud  sleep,  and  he  waked  somewhat 
refreshed,  to  make  that  test  of  endurance  and  courage 
than  which  no  sterner  ever  comes  to  man. 

He  went  over  in  his  mind  the  way  he  must  take ;  he 
called  up  every  tree  whose  appearance  was  different 
from  its  fellows;  every  marked  rock,  every  little  rise 
and  fall  of  ground  he  could  think  of  that  might  serve 
either  as  a  signboard  to  direct  him  on  the  road,  or  as 
a  confirmation  of  his  position.  One  thing  he  knew, 
he  must  keep  along  the  river  at  such  distance  from  it 
as  might  be,  as  there  was  in  that  some  guide. 

He  must  leave  that  course  and  strike  up  to  the  left 
to  cross  the  divide  into  Yellow  Pine  Basin,  and  there 
he  felt  would  come  the  crisis;  should  he  turn  too 
soon,  he  might  wander  into  a  maze  of  rough  country 
where  he  would  unconsciously  pass  the  heads  of  the 


168  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

little  streams  that,  winding  through  the  basin,  seek  the 
river ;  should  he  go  too  far  before  turning,  he  might 
miss  the  basin  altogether,  only  skirting  its  side.  He 
thought  he  could  in  time  find  the  cabin,  even  then,  but 
time  meant  Zeb's  life,  probably,  as  well  as  his  own, 
for  he  felt  he  was  nearing  the  limit  of  his  powers. 

Try  as  he  might,  he  could  not  recall  any  object  that 
in  such  a  bewildering  storm  as  was  then  raging  would 
be  near  enough  for  him  to  see,  and  which  would  indi 
cate  when  he  was  to  turn  aside.  For  ten  miles  or  more 
he  felt  he  could  keep  the  way;  beyond  that,  unless 
Providence  or  fortune  should  interpose,  his  mission 
would  be  a  failure,  and  his  life  but  another  one  of  the 
long  list  whom  the  storms  of  earth  have  swept  to 
death. 

Tightening  his  belt,  nerving  his  spirit,  he  slipped  on 
his  shoes.  Now  had  come  his  last  weary  march ;  was 
it  to  lead  to  the  little  cabin,  where,  weak,  and  he  felt 
now  almost  despairing,  Zeb  patiently  awaited  his  com 
ing  with  the  balm  of  health,  for  now  that  ever  reach 
ing  him  was  so  doubtful,  the  doctor's  compounds 
seemed  of  magic,  unquestionable  virtue;  or  was  it  to 
end  on  some  storm-swept  hillside,  where  his  bleaching 
bones  would  in  time  crumble  into  nothingness  and  his 
memory  only  be,  in  the  minds  of  those  he  most  loved, 
a  mystery  as  to  whether  he  had  been  thief  or  honest 
man? 

To  high  spirits  there  comes  with  danger,  and  prob 
ably  approaching  death,  a  clearness  of  the  faculties,  a 
command,  physical  and  mental,  of  themselves,  that 
awakes  latent  strength  of  muscle,  gives  sinew  new 
elasticity  and  tenseness,  and  puts  mind  to  its  highest. 

There  was  safety  for  himself,  almost  surely,  if  he 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  169 

would  stop,  husbanding  his  little  stock  of  provisions, 
till  such  time  as  the  storm  would  be  over,  but  that 
never  came  to  Bud ;  he  was  too  loyal  to  his  friend  to 
desert  him  in  his  need,  even  though  he  knew  death 
stood  between  them.  "With  loyalty  that  deviated  not, 
with  courage  that  was  unfaltering  in  the  desperate 
strait  he  was  himself  in,  Bud  left  his  camp. 

The  storm  was  furious,  and  the  snow  in  blinding 
sheets  shut  out  any  object  a  hundred  feet  away;  with 
out  cessation  or  break  came  down  the  white  flakes, 
like  cotton  particles,  weaving,  as  they  touched  the 
earth,  a  great  winding-sheet  that  seemed  ready,  yes, 
hungry,  to  enfold  him.  Such  trees  as  through  this 
film  his  eyes  could  see,  white  covered,  like  the  marble 
monuments  in  a  cemetery,  gave  such  ghostly  sameness 
to  the  way,  that  the  stout  heart  seemed  to  walk  with 
death's  banners  at  his  side  through  long  avenues  lead 
ing  to  where  his  dreaded  foe,  lance  in  rest,  awaited 
him. 

Bud  had,  as  I  have  said,  something  to  direct  him ;  for 
though  at  a  distance  above  and  away  from  it,  the  river 
was  in  the  course  he  was  to  take.  With  all  his  failing 
strength  he  ploughed  his  way  through  the  soft,  new- 
fallen  snow,  going  too  high  here  and  too  low  there, 
and  so  adding  to  the  distance  by  his  blundering  path, 
but  he  went  on.  Little  it  mattered  now  whether  day 
or  night  surrounded  him,  for  any  guidance  he  might 
have.  The  night  was  nearly  over  when  he  had  to  come 
to  a  decision  to  turn  into  the  mountains.  Should  he 
turn  now?  No,  he  would  go  on  farther,  for  he 
thought  he  had  better  make  sure  of  not  turning  too 
soon,  even  if  he  might  go  too  low.  But  at  last  he  was 
sure  he  had  gone  down  far  enough,  and  stopping  a  few 


170  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

minutes  for  breath,  and  as  far  as  possible  to  satisfy 
himself  that  he  was  right,  he  changed  his  course  and 
struck  up  into  the  hills. 

The  ascent  was  steep ;  over  two  feet  of  new  snow 
had  fallen  since  the  storm  began,  and  Bud  sank  so 
deeply  in  it  that  movement  was  very  difficult ;  he  could 
only  go  a  few  feet  at  a  time,  his  long-continued  exer 
tions  had  so  weakened  him.  He  took  off  his  shoes  and 
wallowed  through  the  snow,  carrying  them ;  on  hands 
and  knees  he  burrowed  along.  He  put  the  shoes  on 
again,  straining  like  some  good  swimmer  nearly  ex 
hausted,  but  still  combating  an  adverse  current,  hardly 
gaining  distance  as  it  seemed  to  him,  but  yet  gaining. 

Work  against  it  as  he  might,  there  was  creeping 
over  him  a  numbness  of  the  legs,  a  stiffening  of  his 
back  and  thigh  muscles,  and,  worst  of  all,  a  suspicion 
that  his  mind  was  beginning  to  wander.  Old  scenes 
came  to  him — trifling,  long-forgotten  incidents  of  his 
childhood ;  his  bitter  experience  in  New  York ;  a  fair 
face,  now  a  little  fond,  now  changed  as  doubt  and 
suspicion  moulded  its  plastic  and  expressive  features ; 
Zeb's  peril — all  with  panoramic  movement  passed 
before  him.  With  an  effort  of  will  he  tried  to  fix  his 
mind  on  one  thing,  Zeb's  waiting,  patient  face,  and 
concentrated  his  attention  on  the  little  cabin,  the  goal 
of  his  strivings.  He  went  over  every  detail  of  its 
homely  architecture,  every  interior  fitting  in  its  rude 
appointments — the  great  fireplace,  Zeb's  bunk  with  its 
wan,  weak  occupant. 

"  I  will,"  he  said,  "go  there;  the  demons  of  the 
storm  shall  not  hold  me  back.  I  will  keep  my  senses ; 
I  am  coming,  Zeb;  "  and  then,  with  a  spurt  of  energy 
and  strength,  he  would  gain  a  little  distance,  till,  from 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  171 

very  inability,  he  would  have  to  stop  and  breathe. 
Then  would  come  over  him  a  torpor  of  both  mind  and 
body,  with  an  almost  irresistible  impulse  to  throw 
himself  down.  lie  knew  if  he  did  he  would  sink  into 
sleep,  and  with  all  the  powers  of  a  mind  naturally 
strong,  and  an  absorbing,  overmastering  devotion  to 
his  friend,  he  combated  the  desire.  He  would  start, 
to  stop  and  go  over  it  all  again. 

Noon  came  and  passed,  and  with  tenacity  of  pur 
pose,  holding  before  his  eyes  the  cabin,  brushing 
aside  the  ever-gathering  legions  of  sirens  that  would 
lull  him  to  stop  and  rest,  his  will  power  contracting 
and  expanding  his  muscles,  he  moved  on.  No  longer 
had  he  strength,  no  longer  vigor  of  body ;  matter  was 
exhausted,  mind  sustained  him. 

At  last  he  reached  the  summit,  but  he  did  not  stop; 
down  the  hill  he  walked,  slid,  staggered,  but  on 
always;  with  all  the  resolution  he  had  he  kept  the 
one  thing  before  him. 

He  could  not  recognize  an  object  he  had  ever  seen ; 
he  doubted  if  his  course  was  right,  but  now  he  had  no 
choice;  the  little  strength  that  was  in  him  must  be 
spent  in  going  on.  If  he  was  wrong,  all  was  gone — 
Zeb's  life,  his.  It  was  a  desperate  chance,  but  it  was 
the  only  one.  Night  came,  and  stumbling  up  and 
down,  erratic,  waving  from  side  to  side,  he  went  on. 
The  fancies  of  delirium  came  to  him ;  but  like  a  fine, 
hot  sun  his  singleness  of  purpose,  his  unconquerable 
determination,  every  now  and  then  broke  through  the 
clouds  and  mists  that  passed  athwart  his  mind,  and 
were  as  light  to  his  path. 

Fantastic  shapes  the  snow -laden  trees  assumed — 
tombs  of  past  pleasures,  palaces  of  new  ones  yet  to 


172  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

come ;  dead  faces,  living  ones ;  but  behind  him,  as  he 
turned,  ever  two  fiery  lights  that  seemed  to  follow, 
keeping  pace  with  him,  not  twinkling  stars,  but  fixed, 
steady,  horrible  in  their  persistence.  Once  he  fancied 
he  heard  a  growl ;  but  was  it  only  a  false  note  in  the 
strains  of  music,  gay,  pensive,  sombre,  that  rang  in 
his  ears  as  the  sirens  sang?  At  last  his  benumbed 
faculties  gave  reality  to  these  following,  stalking 
lights;  a  cougar  was  on  his  path,  biding  its  time 
till  weak  from  fatigue  he  should  drop  and  be  his 
prey. 

He  laughed;  what  dread  had  he  of  beast  when  the 
air  was  full  of  gathering  ghastly  angels  of  death,  and 
those  of  fairer  form  who,  under  guise  of  soft  bland 
ishments,  were  wooing  him  to  restful  annihilation  ? 

His  spirits  rose.  "  Beasts  or  devils,  I  am  coming, 
Zeb!  I  am  coming,"  he  said,  he  shouted,  and  through 
the  snow  he  wound  his  uncertain,  staggering  way. 
But  now  the  foe  was  on  him.  Delirium  held  him, 
perched  on  his  shoulders,  her  tightening,  fateful  fin 
gers  clutching  at  his  throat.  All  feeling  of  conscious 
ness  was  gone,  but  still  was  left  that  other  power  mind 
has  in  dire  extremity  to  work  its  unseen  will  on  senses 
slumbering  meanwhile.  Even  with  more  directness, 
even  with  more  vigor  than  before,  went  on  the  body, 
while  in  a  thousand  wayside  paths  strayed  off  Bud's 
wandering  senses. 

He  knew  nothing  more — in  after  years  he  could 
recall  nothing  more — until,  standing  before  a  stump 
from  which  the  axe  had  cut  the  tree,  a  ray  of  light, 
flickering,  but  light,  stole  into  his  mind. 

''Thank  God!"  he  thought,  "it's  the  snowshoe 
tree  Zeb  cut;  "  and  off  he  started  from  it,  true  as  an 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  173 

arrow,  to  the  cabin,  his  mind  cleared  from  all  illu 
sions. 

He  left  his  shoes  before  the  canvas  door  and 
stumbled  into  the  cabin.  "Zeb,  I  am  here.  Zeb," 
he  called.  No  answer  came,  and  there  was  no  fire; 
an  awful  silence  was  there.  Uncertain,  trembling, 
he  made  his  way  through  the  darkness  to  Zeb's  bunk, 
and  put  out  a  questioning  hand  as  cold  as  the  still  face 
his  fingers  touched. 

"  Dead!  dead!  "  he  said,  and  fell  unconscious  on  the 
floor. 


CHAPTER    XII 

THROUGH  the  canvas  at  the  door  and  the  cracks 
between  the  logs  of  the  cabin,  daylight  came  filtering 
in.  Dazed  and  wandering,  Bud  awoke  from  the  sleep 
of  exhaustion  and  the  shock  of  the  great  sorrow  and 
calamity  that  had  come  to  him;  awoke  as  one  from  a 
troubled  dream,  and  slowly  collected  his  senses.  He 
was  in  the  cabin,  he  saw,  and  then  memory  came  back, 
and  painfully,  slowly  rising,  every  muscle  aching, 
stiff  and  worn  and  faint,  he  stood  up  and  looked  on 
all  that  was  left  of  his  friend.  He  moved  away  and 
sank  into  the  chair  on  which  lay  the  monster  skin  of 
the  silver  tip,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands. 

Weakened  as  he  was  by  the  terrible  and  long-con 
tinued  strain  of  the  last  ten  days,  lack  of  food  and 
sleep,  now  that  the  stimulus  of  hope  was  gone,  mak 
ing  him  weaker  still,  he  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 
11  Too  late!  Too  late!  "  he  sobbed,  and  then  the  awful 
loneliness  of  his  position  came  to  him  and  quieted  him. 
He  had  much  to  do,  and  he  must  do  it.  Weak  as  he 
was,  he  must  do  what  was  to  be  done  alone. 

When  the  first  burst  of  irrepressible  sorrow  had 
passed,  Bud  made  a  fire,  and  drank  and  ate  to  put  the 
strength  in  him  he  felt  was  so  greatly  needed,  and 
then  before  the  warm  fire  he  dropped  asleep  again. 
An  hour  or  two  he  slept,  and  woke  clearer  in  mind, 
but  so  lame  and  weak  that  he  could  hardly  move. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  175 

Zeb  lay  as  death  had  found  him.  His  peaceful  face 
told  how  quietly  and  gently  the  bold  spirit  had  parted 
from  the  weak,  scarred  frame  it  had  animated.  One 
hand  lay  on  his  heart,  clutching  a  faded,  crumpled 
piece  of  blue  ribbon;  the  other,  by  his  side,  had  its 
dead  fingers  holding  the  little  buckskin  sack  he  had  in 
life  so  greatly  prized ;  on  the  bed  was  the  Testament 
he  had  kept  on  his  shelf. 

The  tears  came  in  Bud's  eyes;  his  heart  was  heavy 
as  over  the  lifeless  clay  he  recalled  the  sterling  virtues 
of  the  man,  and  felt  the  void  his  death  must  make. 
But  there  pressed  on  him,  even  as  he  looked,  the 
necessities  that  death  involves,  and  he  turned  away  to 
consider  how  he  might,  in  his  loneliness  and  solitude, 
do  such  decent  and  fitting  putting  away  of  what 
remained  to  claim  his  sorrowful  and  tender  care  as 
time  and  place  allowed. 

On  the  table,  in  the  litter  that  told  of  Zeb's  having 
taken  bread  and  drink,  lay  evidences  of  a  somewhat 
recent  movement,  and  as  his  eye  took  in  the  crusts  and 
crumbs  and  half-empty  tin  cup,  he  saw  his  name  in 
big,  wandering  letters  on  a  folded  paper.  He  took  it 
up,  and  opening  it,  read: 

"For  all  ye  done,  Bud,  I  thank  ye,  but  it's  no 
good.  I'm  a-going,  and  I  can't  wait  no  ten  days; 
'twouldn't  be  no  good,  ennyway.  I'm  called,  and  I've 
got  to  go. 

"  I  orter  told  ye  mor'n  I  did,  but  ye  send  the  let 
ter  to  Jim  Peasley,  and  the  money ;  he'll  know  where 
it's  to  go.  Don'tye  be  a-lonely  nor  afeered;  jes' 
think  I'm  gone.  Wrap  me  in  my  blankits,  with  the 
sack  I  tol'  ye  in  my  shirt,  and  put  me  under  the  p'int, 
nigh  the  claim.  There  was  never  no  man,  Bud,  I  took 
to  as  I  has  to  ye,  'cept  Yank. 


176  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

"  When  ye  gits  the  dust,  go  to  New  York  and  fight 
that  thing  out.  Be  keerful  'bout  yer  gun;  have  it 
where  ye  can  draw  handy  and  quick.  I  can't  give 
ye  no  advice  like  that ;  always  keep  yer  gun  handy. 
Git  one  of  them  Smith  &  Wesson's  six-inch  barrels;  I 
got  great  conceit  on  'em.  Keep  my  old  gun  and  give 
it  to  the  little  feller  we  was  a- talking  'bout.  He'll 
come,  I  know  he  will,  and  ye'll  be  happy,  and  ye'll  be 
a  considerabel  man,  I  see  ye  will.  Don't  let  old 
Bally  have  no  grain,  never;  it  ain't  no  good  for  him. 
Take  some  dust  outen  my  sheer,  and  put  him  where 
he'll  have  good  grass  and  water,  and  nay  in  winter, 
long's  he  lives. 

" 'T was  a  foolish  thing  yer  going  to  the  doctor's, 
and  I'm  afeered  for  ye,  Bud;  but  I  leeves  ye  where  I 
am,  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  I  prays  he'll  see  to  you 
in  the  snow  and  the  storm. 

"  I  hain't  no  feer.  What  comes  I'll  take  it,  and  if 
so  be  I'll  be  with  Yank.  I  don't  ask  no  more. 

"  Bud,  my;  boy,  my  boy,  I'm  a-desartin'  of  ye,  but 
I  can't  help  it. 

"Let  the  little  feller  grow  up  to  love  his  country 
and  the  flag.  Tell  him  'bout  Yank. 

"  Eddication's  good,  but  the  idee  of  the  country 
and  the  flag,  that's  the  main  p'int. 

"  Tell  her  I  would  ha'  liked  to  see  her  putty  face 
and  the  children,  and  that  I  said  as  how  'twould  come 
out  right.  Be  a  kind  o'  soft  and  easy  with  her,  Bud ; 
wimmin  ain't  like  men. 

"  O  Bud,  I  hates  to  leeve  ye,  but  it's  jes'  got  to  be 
so.  When  ye  go  to  catch  Bally,  take  some  salt,  and 
he'll  come  to  ye.  Tell  the  old  cuss  I'm  gone;  he'll 
know.  He's  got  the  dangdest  sence  of  any  noss  I  ever 
see. 

"  Ye'll  do  all  these  things,  Bud. 

"  Don't  ye  have  no  feer  of  me  when  I'm  in  the 
ground.  I'll  stay  thar. 

Do  the  best  ye  can,  and  mind  yer  gun,  Bud.     The 


tt 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  177 

love  I  has  for  ye,  boy,  makes  it  a  hard  thing,  Bud, 
but  we  mus'  stan'  it.  Don't  ye  take  it  to  heart.  I 
ain't  in  no  wise  a-crawlin'.  60  far  as  I  go,  'cept  for 
ye,  I  ain't  no  ways  sorry.  Good-by.  God  bless  ye, 
feud,  my  boy. 

"ZEB." 

With  what  effort  and  laborious  care  this  was  writ 
ten,  it's  straggling,  uncertain  lines  gave  proof.  From 
its  rude  letters  and  expressions  shone  out  the  kindly 
heart,  the  courage  that  went  down  to  death  unruffled 
by  a  fear. 

"  God,  in  his  infinite  mercy,"  he  said,  "judge  you, 
Zeb.  Surely  the  spirit  must  be  more  than  the  letter 
of  the  law,  and  as  your  light  was,  so  you  kept  it." 

But  there  was  that  to  be  done  he  dreaded,  but  must 
do,  and  with  tender,  caressing  hands  he  straightened 
the  old  man's  limbs  as  best  he  could. 

On  his  heart,  under  his  hand  and  the  ribbon  it  held, 
was  pinned  what  he  had  never  seen  on  him  before, 
the  eagle  and  the  colors,  the  insignia  of  the  Grand 
Army,  and  Bud  thought  to  himself  that  never  had  it 
lain  over  heart  more  loyal,  or  evidenced  more  faithful 
and  devoted  service  to  the  land  whose  safety  and  whose 
glory  was  to  the  old  man  a  religion. 

He  took  from  his  fingers  the  buckskin  sack,  its  open 
mouth  giving  a  glimpse  of  a  scrap  of  frayed  bunting 
and  the  end  of  a  short  clay  pipe.  The  one  he  remem 
bered  as  a  piece  of  the  old  flag  Yank  had  died  with, 
and  that  Zeb  had  afterwards  so  lovingly  borne;  the 
other,  as  Yank's  pipe  he  had  given  him  just  before  the 
battle,  as  Zeb  had  told  him. 

When  all  was  ready,  Bud  put  the  little  sack  on  his 
breast,  under  the  coarse  woollen  shirt  he  had  replaced 
12 


178  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

on  him,  for  he  would  not  remove  from  it  the  badge 
Zeb's  almost  dying  hands  must  have  pinned  there. 
The  ribbon  his  hand  held  he  left  there,  and  the  hand 
he  replaced  as  he  had  found  it.  Reverently  he  wound 
Zeb's  blankets  around  him,  and,  when  all  was  done, 
went  to  the  point  his  letter  had  spoken  of,  which  over 
looked  the  "diggins,"  and,  clearing  away  the  snow, 
began  with  pick  and  shovel  to  dig  the  grave.  It  was 
nearly  dark  when  he  had  finished  his  sad  labors,  for  he 
was  weak,  and  his  overstrained  limbs  were  stiif  and 
aching.  Enfeebled  as  he  was,  he  felt  he  must  take 
another  day  for  the  burial,  and  he  limped  back  to  the 
cabin. 

That  night,  as  darkness  fell,  his  loneliness  came  over 
him  with  such  a  sense  of  its  awful  meaning  as  he  had 
not  felt  before.  The  silence,  unbroken,  save  by  the 
occasional  snapping  of  the  fire  and  his  own  move 
ments,  gave  him  that  awesome  sensation  the  presence 
of  death  inspires ;  but  now  that  his  mind  had  in  a  way 
recovered  from  the  appalling  fact,  the  future,  a  future 
there  without  Zeb,  in  utter  loneliness,  without  com 
panionship,  seemed  something  he  could  not  endure. 
He  would,  after  the  sad  duty  of  the  morrow  was  over, 
leave  Yellow  Pine  Basin  forever,  and  go  somewhere, 
anywhere,  in  search  of  other  human  beings,  but  his 
promise  to  Zeb  prevented.  No,  he  must  remain  there 
to  carry  out  the  last  wishes  of  his  friend. 

Then  his  mind  went  back  to  the  old  mountaineer, 
who,  in  his  blankets,  lay  a  cold,  dread,  awful  reminder 
of  his  duty.  "What  a  nature  was  his!  he  thought. 
All  of  it  many  would  think  so  common  and  so  rough, 
but  through  the  rudeness  of  it  shone  out  to  Bud  the 
man,  tender,  considerate,  loyal,  fearless. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  179 

Every  day  he  could  remember  emanated  from  it  some 
touch  of  gentleness,  some  kindly,  cheery  saying,  some 
hearty  act  of  thoughtful  care  for  him,  and  then  came 
to  him  flashes  of  the  stern,  just,  brave  spirit  that, 
under  all  the  trials  of  a  life  so  exacting  in  its  calls 
on  manhood,  was  always  ready,  eager,  to  respond  in 
determined  purpose,  honest  action,  and  brave  deed. 

As  he  sat  he  thought,  "  Why  should  the  poor  dead 
flesh  there  be  repellent  to  me,  when  it  was  the  frame 
of  a  spirit  so  gentle  and  so  true,  whose  last  words  to 
me,  written  while  his  strength  was  fading,  were  so 
full  of  kindly  feeling?  "  And  getting  into  his  bunk, 
he  drew  the  blankets  over  him  and  slept. 

In  the  bright  sunshine  of  the  morning,  for  the  storm 
was  over,  he  carried  to  the  open  grave  the  poor  rem 
nant  of  what  had  been  so  much  to  him.  Weighted 
with  the  sad  load  he  bore,  Bud's  lame,  strained  frame 
staggered  on,  but  more  weary  and  sore  was  the  heart 
within.  Tenderly  he  laid  him  in  his  final  resting 
place,  his  shroud  but  a  red  woollen  shirt,  his  coffin  but 
the  blankets  from  his  bed. 

Among  his  belongings  Bud  had  a  Book  of  Common 
Prayer,  and  over  the  senseless  form  he  read  the  solemn 
service  of  the  Church,  dropping  the  earth  as  the  words 
"  dust  to  dust  "  were  spoken.  He  filled  in  the  earth, 
smoothed  it  down,  covered  the  mound  with  heavy 
stones,  and  with  a  last  look  at  the  grave,  Zeb  was  left 
to  his  sleep. 

Green  grow  the  grass  over  you,  Zeb.  Let  the  flow 
ers  bloom  and  fade,  let  winters  come  and  go,  and 
springs  and  summers  wax  and  wane.  The  body  will 
rot,  and  the  elements  of  which  it  is  composed  go  back 
to  the  earth  from  which  they  came.  But  you  were 


180  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

something  more  than  nitrogen  and  oxygen  and  calcium 
and  phosphorus ;  you  were  kindness  and  loyalty,  faith 
and  courage.  You  have  returned  to  earth  all  she  ever 
gave  you ;  paid  the  debt  to  nature,  as  they  say,  and 
have  left  behind  you  a  legacy  to  all  men — not  gold,  nor 
lands,  nor  bonds,  nor  stock,  but  that  greater  treasure, 
the  memory  of  a  true  man.  Your  heirs  are  all  who 
knew  you,  many  who  did  not,  for  who  can  tell  how 
far-reaching  is  example  of  gentle  kindliness  and  manly 
bearing,  the  seed  of  which,  planted  in  one  heart,  may 
bear  fruit  through  unborn  generations  ? 

The  type  of  man  which  you  were  will  soon  pass 
from  us  altogether.  The  history  of  our  great  West, 
such  as  you  have  made;  and  when  the  last  of  the 
pioneers  shall  have  gone,  we  will  be  losers.  In  the 
heat  and  the  cold,  in  privation  and  danger,  through 
thirst  and  hunger  and  blood,  have  men  like  you  won 
a  great  empire  to  civilization. 

Poet  and  tale-teller  have  passed  you  by,  and  amid 
the  glitter  and  the  tinsel  of  the  world  have  seen  you 
not.  Gold  has  no  sheen  nor  shimmer  but,  turn  it  as 
you  may,  every  ray  of  light  that  strikes  it  shows  it 
always  the  same.  Over  that  stone-covered  mound  in 
Yellow  Pine  Basin  let  one  who  knew  you  well,  and 
others  like  you,  stand  a  moment,  and  to  the  virtues  of 
a  class  whose  failings  and  shortcomings  he  well  knew 
the  why  and  wherefore  of,  as  like  a  haze  they  pass  in 
his  mind  over  the  fierce,  hot  sun  of  your  brave  pur 
pose,  of  your  valor,  your  determination,  your  man 
hood,  your  loyalty,  your  faithfulness,  pay  modest 
tribute  such  as  grave  of  Cresar  or  Napoleon  could  not 
call  from  him. 

One  can  picture  to  himself  the  loneliness  of  that 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  181 

night  after  Zeb's  burial.  Who  of  us  has  not  felt  what 
he  felt,  hardly  less  acutely  because  friends  were  near 
and  gave  us  sympathy  as  they  themselves  suffered  ? 

"I  have  been,"  Bud  said  to  himself,  "floating 
along ;  now  I  have  before  me  a  work  to  do, ' '  and  he 
read  again  Zeb's  words.  "  I  will  go  do  it.  Zeb  has 
taught  me  so  much,  I  will  do  his  wishes  here.  I  will 
go  back  and  face  my  trouble,  and  surely  I  must  win. 
There  must  be  justice  that  will  not  allow  an  innocent 
man  to  be  thus  branded." 

As  before  his  lonely  fire  he  sat  that  night,  came 
back  to  him  the  simple  old  man  and  the  strange  meet 
ing  with  one  who  had  been  so  unobtrusive  yet  so  faith 
ful  a  teacher.  He  could  call  up  a  hundred  things  Zeb 
had  said  which,  now  he  knew,  were  meant  to  strengthen 
and  to  guide  him. 

"  By  the  sweat  of  his  brow  shall  man  earn  his 
bread. "  Labor  has  more  to  its  account  than  the  earn 
ing  of  bread,  and  so  Bud  found. 

A  fierce  desire  for  work  came  over  him,  and  early 
and  late  he  labored.  As  spring  came  on  and  the  snow 
under  the  warming  sun  gave  out  its  water,  he,  as  Zeb 
had  taught  him  to  do,  utilized  its  power  and  swept 
through  the  boxes  and  the  race  great  masses  of  gravel, 
catching  gold  in  abundance,  and  adding  to  what  had 
already  been  secured,  sack  after  sack.  At  last  he 
found  that  ahead  of  him  the  gravel  no  longer  con 
tained  anything  but  minute  light  particles  of  gold,  and 
going  back  he  sluiced  into  the  boxes  the  sides  of  the 
cut,  prospecting  it  as  he  went,  finding  that  the  rich 
ground  was  only  a  narrow  strip  through  which  they 
had  run  the  cut. 

It  was  into  June,  however,  before  he  had  exhausted 


182  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

all  the  rich  gravel,  but  when  he  stopped  work,  twelve 
sacks  of  gold-dust  were  filled,  and  another  half  full, 
and  taking  Zeb's  estimate  as  to  weight,  he  thought  he 
had  in  them  about  twelve  or  thirteen  hundred  ounces. 
He  buried  the  sacks  and  concealed  the  deposit  as  best 
he  could. 

There  were  the  horses  to  get  up,  and  going  down 
where  they  were,  he  caught  them,  Bally  coming  to 
the  salt;  and  following  Zeb's  injunctions  to  the  letter, 
he  said,  "Bally,  Zeb  is  dead;  he  is  gone."  Was  it 
imagination  ?  He  fancied  the  old  horse  changed ;  he 
would  look  at  him  with  eyes  following  his  movements, 
and  allowed  him  to  handle  him  as  he  pleased.  He  was 
fat,  as  were  the  others,  but  a  change  had  come  over 
him.  He  followed  him  like  a  dog,  never  kicking  nor 
biting  at  him. 

In  a  few  days  Bud  had  them  all  at  the  cabin,  and  he 
saw  Bally  go  to  the  grave  and  smell  and  paw.  Like  a 
dog  he  lay  by  it  all  night,  feeding  near  it  from  time 
to  time. 

The  next  day  Bud  placed  a  rough-hewn  timber  at 
the  head  of  the  grave,  and  wrote  on  one  smoothed 
side,  "Zeb,  died  March,  1882." 

As  he  wrote  "Zeb,"  he  paused  a  second  for  the 
name,  but  he  had  never  known  it.  It  was  a  surprise 
to  him  he  had  never  thought  of  another  name;  it 
astonished  him;  but  so  it  was,  only  "Zeb,"  nothing 
more. 

That  day  he  made  all  ready,  and  early  the  next 
morning  he  took  Zeb's  poor  belongings  with  his  own. 
On  one  horse  he  placed  the  gold-dust,  packed  up,  plac 
ing  Zeb's  saddle  on  Bally,  and  his  own  on  his  bay. 

He  went  up  to  the  grave,  and  on  his  knees  before 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  183 

it,  tears  in  his  eyes,  bade  a  last  good-by  to  the  dead, 
mouldering  form  beneath  the  rocks  and  earth. 

He  looked  his  last  on  Yellow  Pine  Basin  as  one  does 
on  some  place  which  he  knows  has  been  the  theatre 
where  unwonted  experiences  have  acted  out  their  chang 
ing  phases,  and  back  into  the  great  world  he  started. 

The  streams  were  still  high,  and  his  progress  was 
retarded  by  them,  as  also  by  the  snow,  which,  in  the 
higher  country  he  passed  over,  was  still  covering  the 
ground.  Stanley  Basin  was  a  morass,  and  along  the 
foothills  he  picked  his  way.  Then  came  the  swollen 
Salmon,  with  its  strong  current  to  be  crossed. 

On  the  bank  he  tightened  his  packs,  and  though  it 
ran  wild  and  turbulent,  he  put  his  horses  in  to  swim  it. 
The  main  Salmon,  which  there  is  wide  and  shallow 
at  low  water,  in  the  early  summer  is  a  nasty  stream 
to  swim,  except  where  certain  stretches,  known  to  the 
initiated,  slow  up  the  speed  with  which  in  most  places 
the  torrent  makes  its  way. 

Bud  knew  nothing  of  the  river  in  its  then  condition ; 
he  knew  it  must  be  crossed,  and  though  he  was  not 
one  to  falter  when  a  thing  was  to  be  done,  there  was 
that  in  the  swift  rush  of  water  that  made  him,  as  he 
stood  only  knee  deep,  look  anxiously  ahead  for  what 
seemed  the  best  place  of  attack. 

Zeb's  things,  his  old  gun  among  them,  and  a  few  of 
his  own,  were  on  a  strong  roan,  and  the  gold  with 
them;  other  things,  his  blankets  and  tools,  were  on 
the  other  two  packs.  He  rode  his  bay,  and  old  Bally 
bore  only  Zeb's  empty  saddle. 

With  some  driving  and  urging  all  the  animals  were 
headed  in  what  seemed  the  best  course  to  cross.  The 
water,  knee  deep,  was  soon  belly  deep  on  the  horses, 


184  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

and  then  up  on  their  sides,  nearly  to  Bud's  knees. 
Their  feet  left  the  bottom  and  all  were  swimming,  the 
current  getting  stronger;  soon  it  became  more  rapid, 
and  as  they  neared  the  middle  of  the  stream  it  was 
furious.  Bud  began  to  be  dizzy  and  had  to  shut  his 
eyes.  The  horses,  heads  up  stream,  could  hardly 
breast  it  and  hold  their  ground,  but  all  fought  bravely 
for  the  other  shore. 

The  swirl  of  a  strong  eddy  caught  Bud's  horse  and 
turned  him  around.  As  he  opened  his  eyes  he  could 
see  the  animals  separated,  and  all  in  the  power  of  the 
water  that  was  slowly,  in  spite  of  their  struggles,  car 
rying  them  down  stream.  The  little  black,  as  he 
looked,  rolled  over  and  over  in  the  water,  and  he  saw 
him  no  more.  Just  then  the  water  caught  his  own 
horse,  and  as  it  rolled  him  over,  Bud  freed  himself, 
and  was  buffeting  the  mad  rush,  when  he  saw  Bally 
at  his  side,  and  caught  his  mane,  and  then  the  pommel 
of  the  saddle.  Horse  and  man  struggled  for  life. 
Bally,  stout  swimmer  though  he  was,  could  hardly 
hold  his  own;  another  stronger  current  caught  them, 
tearing  Bud  from  his  hold.  Down  stream  went  man 
and  horse,  but  some  chance  guidance  of  the  water 
threw  Bud  against  a  tree  top  which  the  floods  had 
carried  down  and  lodged  against  the  bank;  he  caught 
a  limb,  and  at  last  dragged  himself  out  of  the  water. 
Below  him,  when  he  could  look  about,  he  saw  the  bay 
had  reached  the  shore,  and  beside  him  was  the  roan, 
but  he  could  see  nothing  of  the  others. 

Bud  went  down  the  stream  to  where  the  horses 
were,  weak  and  trembling  from  the  contest  with  the 
river  and  the  icy  coldness  of  the  water,  which  be 
numbed  him  also. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  185 

He  searched  along  the  bank  for  the  others  until,  in 
a  small  bay-like  indentation  of  the  shore,  in  the  still 
water  that  there,  out  of  the  tossing,  plunging  current, 
had  settled  quietly,  he  saw  old  Bally. 

In  his  struggles  the  saddle  had  parted  from  him,  and 
the  good  old  horse  lay  dead.  "Gone  to  Zeb,"  Bud 
said,  as  he  looked  on  the  old  companion  of  his  friend. 

He  remembered  how  Bally  had  saved  him  in  all 
probability  from  death.  Ever  since  he  had  taken  him 
from  the  winter  range  he  had  been  a  changed  horse. 
All  his  capricious  viciousness  had  left  him,  and  as  if  he 
knew  Bud  was,  in  a  way,  Zeb's  representative,  he 
acted  in  so  quiet  a  manner  that  Bud  was  astonished ; 
and  then  his  coming  to  him  in  the  water,  for  it  seemed 
as  if  there  had  been  purpose  in  it,  together  with  Zeb's 
love  for  him,  and  that  in  a  way  he  felt  himself  the 
guardian  of  the  old  horse,  all  made  him  feel  very  ten 
der.  "  You  shall  not  miss  a  grave,"  he  said;  "  well 
have  you  deserved  it."  He  could  find  nothing  of  the 
black,  but  the  gray  he  thought  he  saw  as  far  away  as 
he  could  see  the  river,  floating  in  the  middle,  down  the 
stream,  and  beyond  his  reach. 

Going  back  to  where  old  Bally  lay,  Bud  camped,  and 
started  to  dig  a  big  hole  to  serve  as  a  grave  for  the  old 
horse.  That  day  he  could  not  finish  it,  but  on  the 
next  he  did,  and  the  other  horses  dragged  Bally  into 
his  grave.  Bud  filled  it  up  and  left  him. 

A  few  days'  travel  brought  him  where  he  could  sell 
his  gold-dust,  and  from  it  Bud  obtained  $22,758.33. 
He  packed  the  fe\v  articles  that  Zeb  had,  and  that  had 
been  saved  from  the  waters,  and  directing  the  package 
to  James  Peasley,  Poseytown,  Indiana,  put  it  in  the 
express  office.  He  purchased  from  Wells,  Fargo  a 


186  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

draft  on  New  York,  to  his  own  order,  for  $11,379.17, 
sold  his  horses,  and  gathered  together  for  a  journey  to 
New  York  his  own  things,  articles  that  would  in  after 
times  have  to  him  interest  and  value,  and  with  them 
Zeb's  gun  carefully  boxed,  taking  at  the  same  time 
drafts  on  New  York  for  his  own  share  of  the  gold- 
dust  less  what  money  he  needed  for  his  journey. 

He  wrote  a  long  letter  to  James  Peasley,  telling  him 
of  Zeb's  death,  and  enclosing  the  draft  and  Zeb's  let 
ter,  mailed  it,  and  that  night  the  East-bound  train 
bore  away  Zeb's  partner. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IT  was  a  hot  summer  day  in  a  little  Indiana  village, 
without  a  breath  of  cooling  air  to  neutralize  the  fervid 
rays  of  the  scorching  sun ;  the  hour  of  noon  had  come ; 
the  steam  whistle  of  the  corn-sheller  at  one  end  of  the 
town — it  had  been  named  "  Poseytown  " — sounded  in 
blacksmith  and  carpenter  shop,  and  in  village  store, 
and  in  such  other  shops  and  business  places  as  there 
were,  as  well  as  in  the  modest,  white-painted  dwelling- 
houses,  the  dinner  hour. 

The  little  hum  of  life  that  from  shops  and  corn- 
sheller  had  buzzed,  sank  away,  and  the  steps  of  men 
as  they  went  to  the  midday  meal,  and  the  creaking  of 
a  gate,  or  the  sharp  snap  of  one  as  it  closed  after  the 
incomer,  only  varied  the  monotonous  droning  of  bee 
and  grasshopper,  as  with  their  tiny  voices  they  em 
phasized  the  sleepiness  of  the  sultry  July  noonday. 

Inside  many  village  homes  the  meal  was  on  the 
table;  the  female  community,  warm  from  their  culin 
ary  labors  with  meat  and  vegetables  over  hot  cooking- 
stoves,  were  calling  lingering  man  and  boy  together, 
to  take  their  seats  before  the  homely  fare. 

A  little  belated  came  limping  down  the  main  street 
the  village  justice  of  the  peace,  his  big  cane  striking 
the  unpaved  sidewalk  with  unusual  hurry,  and  ringing 
on  the  dry  planks  that  here  and  there  some  house 
holder  had  placed  before  his  home — an  elderly  man, 


188  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

precise  in  his  old-fashioned  dress,  with  his  blue  swal 
low-tail  coat,  and  its  bright  brass  buttons  flat  and 
polished,  covering  a  thin,  angular  frame ;  his  nankeen 
trousers,  starched  to  stiffness,  concealing  some  imper 
fection  in  his  legs,  which  his  lame,  halting  gait  indi 
cated. 

The  big,  black  soft  felt  hat  shaded  with  its  wide 
brim  a  face  clean  shaven,  that  bore  in  its  every  line 
that  consciousness  of  importance  and  authority,  that 
half-official,  half-fatherly  interest  and  concern  for 
everything  and  everybody  which  comes  from  a  law- 
established  power  over  the  ill-doers  of  the  commu 
nity,  and  a  more  or  less  intimate  knowledge  of  the 
business,  financial  standing,  and  secrets  of  almost 
every  one.  Such  smattering  of  the  laws  of  the  State 
he  had  as,  added  to  native  good  sense,  made  him  a 
worthy  incumbent  of  his  office,  in  which,  with  strict 
justice  and  impartiality,  he  weighed  the  evidence  and 
gave  his  judgments.  An  honesty  and  good  nature 
that  was  as  methodical  and  precise  in  its  expression  as 
the  man  himself,  and  a  clear-headedness  and  shrewd 
ness  that  all  knew  and  respected,  made  him  in  a  way 
father-confessor  to  the  village  and  the  country  around, 
and  friend  and  counsellor  to  the  neighborhood. 

Long  holding  of  his  office,  for  he  had  been  justice 
for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  had  made  him  somewhat 
arbitrary  and  opinionated;  power  and  station  have 
that  influence.  If  you  can  fine  your  neighbor  two 
dollars  for  allowing  his  pigs  to  run  in  the  street,  and 
he  himself,  should  he  on  some  occasion  of  hilarity  over 
step  the  bounds  of  strict  decorum,  and  on  his  home 
ward  way,  with  lusty  song  and  loud-mouthed  shouting, 
disturb  the  slumbers  of  the  people,  five  dollars  for 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  189 

such  unseemly  conduct,  it  does  lift  you  above  others; 
it  is  human  nature;  you  can't  help  it;  you  feel  the 
sense  of  power  you  have,  and,  feeling  it,  you  show  it. 

But  there  are  powers  behind  thrones,  and  such  a 
power  was  behind  Judge  Peasley,  and  like  a  culprit 
going  into  his  own  court,  he  entered  the  gate  and 
hobbled  up  the  gravel  walk  to  his  door. 

"  What  ails  you,  Jim  Peasley?  Corn  fritters  for 
dinner,  and  they  all  burnt  to  a  crisp  with  your  coming 
so  late.  You'll  drive  me  to  my  grave  with  your  ag 
gravating  ways.  It's  a  wonder  I'm  alive  to-day. 
Where  have  you  been  ?  What  have  you  been  doing 
that  you  didn't  know  'twas  dinner  time?  I  wouldn't 
speak,  but  here  it  is,  day  after  day.  You've  no  con 
sideration  for  me,  and  I  slaving  for  you." 

The  Judge  might  have  said  that  his  being  late  was 
a  most  unusual  event;  but,  wise  from  experience,  he 
refrained  from  speech. 

"  There  you  are,  standing  like  a  fool.  Can't  you 
speak,  I  say  ?  What  have  you  been  doing  ?  But  it's 
no  use  to  ask  you  anything ;  some  men  tell  their  wives 
something,  but  you  never  do." 

"  Why,  mother,  I  was  reading  some  letters,  and  I 
got  to  thinking  how  something  had  best  be  done. 
I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late.  I'm  sorry,  I  am." 

"Oh,  yes,  you're  sorry;  but  that's  all  the  good  it 
is.  What  are  you  palavering  about  ?  Why  don't  you 
sit  down  and  eat  ?  You'd  drive  a  woman  to  the  asy 
lum,  and  there  I'll  go,  Peasley;  little  you'd  care  either, 
and  me  that's  worked  for  you  twenty  year." 

"  Now,  don't,  mother,  don't.  Why  don't  you  get 
that  colored  girl  to  help  you?  " 

"  Yes,"  sniffed  Mrs.  Peasley,  "  that's  just  like  you, 


190  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

wanting  me  to  have  more  work  and  more  worry.  It's 
enough,  goodness  knows,  to  have  you  to  worry  me, 
without  having  an  idle,  chattering  girl  around  to 
smash  the  dishes.  I  manage  this  house,  and  I'll  thank 
you  to  let  me  alone." 

The  Judge  ate  in  silence,  as  Mrs.  Peasley  did  not 
do,  for  she  was  full  of  real  and  imaginary  troubles, 
and  when  there  were  no  real  ones  at  hand,  her  imagi 
nation  conjured  up  all  possible  ills  that  might  come  to 
her. 

Born  and  bred  in  New  England,  as  a  school-teacher 
she  had  drifted  into  Indiana,  and  when  somewhat 
mature,  with  the  schoolmistress  habit  well  fastened 
upon  her,  the  Judge  had  wooed  and  won. 

A  natural  tendency  to  scan  the  horizon  for  any  speck 
of  cloud,  and  an  ability  to  create  from  it  a  tempest  as 
soon  as  her  eye  fell  on  it ;  a  thinly  disguised  contempt 
for  the  ideas  and  opinions  of  every  one  but  herself,  and 
a  never-failing  command  of  language,  which  she  could 
use  with  most  unpleasant  effect,  made  the  rough  shell 
which  concealed  much  kindness  of  heart  and  good 
sense.  To  her  failings  the  Judge,  if  not  blind,  had 
thought  it  better  to  be  deaf ;  her  virtues  he  saw  most 
clearly,  and  respecting  her  insight  into  human  nature, 
a  quality  that  he  had  found  her  to  possess  in  an  emi 
nent  degree,  often  took  her  advice  in  matters  outside  of 
ordinary  affairs. 

"  I  had  two  letters  this  morning,  mother,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  don't  know  how  to  do  what  I  must  do,  or  how 
to  do  it  in  the  most  considerate  way,  I  mean.  I  had 
an  old  friend,  we  were  boys  together.  He  left  here 
and  went  to  California  thirty  years  ago  or  more.  To 
day  I  have  heard  of  his  death,  and  I  have  a  letter  he 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  191 

wrote  me  before  he  died,  too.  I  liked  him  as  a  boy, 
and  his  course  has  been  such  that  I  have  for  him  great 
respect ;  yes,  I  think  I  never  respected  a  man  more. 
You  never  knew  him,  for  he  left  here  before  you  came 
to  Poseytown.  His  people,  so  far  as  I  know,  are  all 
dead,  but  he  has  those  here  who  were  his  care,  though 
they  never  knew  it;  and  how  I'm  to  tell  it  all  to  the 
woman,  I  don't  know,  mother.  It's  such  a  sad  story, 
and  it  will  come  on  her  so  unexpectedly;  she's  forgot 
ten  the  man,  I  dare  say." 

"Why,  father,"  as  she  called  the  Judge  when  in 
her  better  moods,  "  the  woman,  you  say?  Tell  me 
all  about  it." 

"  There's  such  a  lot  of  money  comes  with  it  all,  that 
I'm  to  give  her,  and  I'm  not  to  tell  who  the  woman 
is.  I  don't  know  as  I  ought  to  tell  as  much  as  I'm 
going  to. 

"  Suppose,  mother,  that  before  you  met  me  some 
man  should  have  loved  you,  and  you  had  told  him  to 
go  his  way,  and  I  had  been  a  worthless  drunken,  shift 
less  man,  and  this  man  who  had  loved  you  had  gone, 
and  when  he  heard  that  your  life  was  what  such  a  man 
would  make  it,  and  you  and  your  children  were  in 
need,  should  have  gotten  a  friend  to  lie  for  him,  and 
tell  you  that  some  old  debt  owed  to  your  father  was 
to  be  paid  you,  and  this  man  should  year  after  year 
send  his  friend  money  as  he  could,  and  have  that 
money  paid  on  this  lying  debt,  paid  to  you,  and  for 
nearly  sixteen  years  that  money  had  kept  the  breath 
of  life  in  you  and  your  children — money  that  came 
from  the  hardest  toil  and  through  terrible  dangers  and 
privations — and  in  all  this  time  he  had  never  spoken 
to  you,  written  to  you,  seen  you,  and  dying  had  sent 


192  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

you  a  big  lot  of  money.  How  would  you  have  this 
told  you?" 

"  Don't  tell  me  anymore,  father,  don't.  Go  to  this 
woman  and  tell  her  just  what  you  have  told  me,  just 
as  you  have  spoken  it,  and  tell  her  that  this  dead 
man's  secret — what  a  man  he  was! — is  now  only  hers 
and  yours,  and  that  no  man  or  woman  knows  of  it — 
say  that,  father,  that  no  woman  knows  of  it — but  you 
two,  or  ever  will. 

"I'm  glad  you  told  me  of  this,  father.  It  is  good 
to  know  such  men  have  lived,  but  I  would  not  hear 
more.  It  would  be  sacrilege.  What  a  man  he  was ! ' ' 

Then  tears  came  to  her,  and  she  fell  a-crying. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Judge,  with  a  husky  voice,  "he 
was  a  man." 

In  every  community,  no  matter  how  small,  there 
seems  always  to  be  some  good-for-nothing  man,  whose 
weakness  works  injury  only  to  himself  and  those  who, 
unfortunately,  are  dependent  on  him,  while  the  con 
tempt  he  is  looked  upon  by  all  is  in  a  measure  neutral 
ized  by  a  certain  good  humor  and  consideration  for 
everybody  outside  of  his  own  family  circle.  When 
young  he  was  a  general  favorite,  hail-fellow  well  met, 
too  weak  to  have  either  enemies  or  strong  friends; 
with  few  opinions  of  his  own,  readily  falling  into  the 
general  sentiment  of  those  about  him,  he  acquired  the 
negative  liking  of  all.  No  gathering  of  young  folks 
Avas  complete  without  him,  and  he  was  held  up  by 
fathers  and  mothers  as  a  model  to  other  boys  whose 
activity  of  mind  and  positive  natures  made  them  com 
bative  of  the  ideas  of  their  elders  and  less  submissive 
than  was  he. 

Such  a  young  man  had  been  Ellery  Simmons,  a  son 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  193 

of  well-to-do  people,  whose  idol  he  was.  Nature  had 
endowed  him  with  good  looks  and  a  pleasing  address, 
which,  added  to  prospects  most  promising  and  a  seem 
ing  absence  of  vices,  made  Poseytown  a  unit  in  senti 
ment  when  he  married  Jane  Richards,  a  village  belle. 

Life  seemed  to  open  to  these  young  people  a  future 
of  comfort,  success,  and  happiness.  Jane  was  a  girl 
everybody  liked ;  she  was  bright  and  good  and  pretty, 
and  Poseytown  settled  down  to  the  feeling  that  the 
match  was  a  most  appropriate  one. 

It  was  hardly  a  year  before  Jane  found  her  husband 
was  a  drunkard.  He  wasted  the  patrimony  left  by 
his  parents,  who  died  a  few  months  before  the  wed 
ding.  In  wild  speculation  and  riotous  living  his  little 
fortune  went.  Poor  girl,  she  did  all  she  could  to  re 
strain  him.  He  would  promise  amendment,  only,  per 
haps,  within  the  same  hour  to  yield  to  a  weakness  that 
seemed  to  drag  him  down  in  spite  of  himself.  A  child 
had  come  to  them,  and  neither  mother  nor  child  could 
change  the  downward  course  the  poor  weak  fool  had 
started  on. 

She  saw  him  day  after  day  sinking  deeper  and  deeper 
into  that  slough  out  of  which  the  strong  man  may 
struggle,  but  the  weak  one  never.  Her  pride  and  her 
love  made  her  keep  such  secret  counsel  with  herself  as 
to-day  keeps  many  a  fair,  sweet  young  wife  in  village, 
town,  and  city.  But  there  came  a  time  when  she  felt 
the  need  of  some  help,  some  advice,  to  stem  the  cur 
rent  which  she  saw  was  wafting  them  all  to  poverty 
and  want.  The  child  she  had,  and  another  one  soon 
to  come,  demanded  of  her  that  she  do  something,  try 
something — what,  she  did  not  know ;  how,  she  did  not 
know. 

13 


194  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

In  the  first  year  of  her  married  life  her  mother  died, 
and  with  her  went  the  small  annuity  which,  in  the 
simple  life  they  led,  had  been  ample  for  the  modest 
needs  of  mother  and  daughter ;  died  thanking  Provi 
dence  for  the  assured  comfort  and  well-being  of  her 
girl,  that  she  felt  had  been  guaranteed  by  the  marriage. 
Jane's  father  had  died  years  before,  and  she  had  but  a 
hazy  remembrance  of  him. 

To  whom  should  she  so  naturally  turn  in  her  troubles 
for  fatherly  advice  as  to  Judge  Peasley,  her  mother's 
old  friend  ?  And  so  one  day  she  went,  and  into  his 
kind  heart  poured  the  woes  and  fears  of  her  life. 
With  ready  sympathy  the  Judge  tried  by  friendly 
admonition  to  stop  young  Simmons,  but  with  no  good 
result;  he  promised  everything,  only  to  promise  again 
and  fall.  At  last  want  came  on  Jane,  and,  taking  up 
her  burden,  she  fought  for  her  home  and  her  children 
the  same  old  fight  that,  since  there  were  men  and 
women,  the  weaker  sex  have  waged  when  self-respect 
and  little  ones  were  to  be  maintained  by  their  own 
exertions,  hampered  by  some  clog  of  husband  and 
father. 

The  Judge,  writing  to  an  old  friend  about  this  time, 
mentioned  as  a  matter  of  news  this  sad  condition  of 
one  they  both  knew,  and  spoke  of  it  all  most  feelingly. 
He  had,  as  his  circumstances  allowed,  and  in  ways 
Jane's  pride  could  make  no  objection  to,  put  in  tan 
gible  form  his  sympathy ;  his  wife,  with  the  good  sense 
and  consideration  she  had,  directing  the  channels  of 
such  helpful  aid.  Many  an  unnecessary  article  of 
needlework  had  she  gotten  Jane  to  make,  and  paid 
for  it  the  money  they  had  to  give. 

Some  weeks  after,  the  Judge  received  a  letter,  and 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  195 

back  to  his  office  after  his  dinner  he  limped  for  this 
letter. 

A  methodical  man  he  was,  and  in  his  old  iron  safe 
he  had  a  bundle  of  letters  which  he  took  out,  looking 
at  the  bottom  one  and  some  others;  and  then  going 
back  to  the  first  one  he  read  as  follows: 


"  PRESCOT,  ARIZONY,  May  3,  1868. 
"DEER  JIM: 

"  I  put  in  this  letter  230  dollars.  Wells,  Fargo  has 
offices  everywhere;  they'l  pay  ye  the  cash,  no  feer  on 
'em,  ther  all  rite.  Jim,  ye  can  help  me,  and  ye  must 
do  it.  Ye  mind  when  I  was  in  Injianny  after  the  war; 
ye  mind  I  was  there  a  long  time,  and  Avhy  did  ye  think 
I  was  so  long  ?  I'll  tell  ye,  Jim. 

"  Ye  know  how  all  the  folks  was  glad  to  see  me,  and 
Miss  Richards  was  that  kind  to  let  me  bord  in  her 
house.  Jane  was  the  puttest  woman  I  ever  see,  and  tho 
I  was  so  much  older,  somehow  a  seeing  of  her  every  day 
I  fell  in  love  Avith  her ;  yes,  Jim,  I  did ;  she  was  so  good 
and  kind  to  me  I  was  Fool  enuf  to  think  she'd  care  for 
me.  What  a  dang  fool  I  was!  Well,  I  hung  round 
for  months,  and  she  was  so  kind  and  hearty  and  pies- 
sent  that  I  got  the  big  head,  and  one  night  I  ask  her 
to  be  my  wife.  She  didn't  know,  how  could  she,  that 
I  was  so  gone  a-lovin  of  her,  and  she  laffed  at  me,  and 
said  it  couldn't  be;  I  was  too  old  for  her.  Ther  never 
was  nothing  hit  me  like  that.  I  see  what  a  cussed 
fool  I  was.  Jest  then  somebody  come  in,  and  I  walked 
out,  I  wanted  air  so  bad.  As  I  come  down  the  step 
ther  was  a-layin  on  it  a  blue  ribbin  Jane  had  worn  in 
her  hair.  I  put  it  in  my  pocket  and  I've  got  it  yet. 

"  I  left  kind  o'  sudden,  ye  will  remember,  Jim,  and 
that's  why. 

"I  never  loved  no  woman  but  her;  I  never  will; 
but,  Jim,  I  do. 


196  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

"  "Twon't  make  no  diference,  and  she's  forgot  me 
by  this,  and  ye  won't  tell  nothing.  When  I  heered 
she  was  married  and  all  so  well  with  her,  I  was  glad, 
tho  it  cut  me,  Jim,  I  won't  deny  that  cut  me.  My 
heart  is  worryed  over  her,  and  2  little  ones,  too. 
John  Richards  was  a  man  nobody  didn't  know  nothing 
'bout  much,  and  course  he  died,  so  she  didn't  know 
much  'bout  him,  and  Miss  Richards  she's  dead.  Now, 
I  want  ye  to  lie  for  me,  Jim ;  yes,  Jim,  I  want  ye  to 
lie  to  Jane,  and  tell  her  that  some  man  owed  her 
father,  and  had  wrote  to  you  that  he's  going  to  pay 
his  debt  soon  as  he  can;  that  he  can't  pay  much  at  a 
time,  but  he'll  keep  a-chippin'  in  on  it,  and  that  on  no 
count  he  wants  it  nowen  who  he  is,  as  he  oughter 
paid  it  before,  and  it's  on  his  conscience  like.  Tell 
enny  yarn  ye  like,  that  if  so  be  ye  think  ye  have  a 
better  lie  than  I  give  ye. 

"  Them  230  dollars  ye  give  her  right  away,  and  I'll 
wressle  up  more  pretty  soon.  I'm  a  goin  to  Mexico, 
and  I'll  raise  something  soon  as  I  can,  and  send  ye. 
If  I'm  kinder  slow  sometimes — luck  goes  agin  a  man  a 
while,  ye  know,  Jim,  and  then  it  goes  with  him — don't 
ye  let  ner  want,  and  I'll  make  it  up  to  ye,  Jim,  sure's 
I  live,  Jim. 

"  I'll  send  ye  more  soon  as  I  can.  Don't  make  no 
talk  'bout  that  lie;  its  all  rite.  Ye  don't  know  but 
'twas  so.  I  mite  have  owed  old  man  Richards.  I 
say  I  did;  that's  enuf  for  ye. 

"  Ye  do  this,  Jim,  andye'll  do  more  forme  nor  enny 
man  can. 

"  Hopein  as  yer  all  well,  no  more  from  yer  friend, 

"ZEB  BEAN." 

Fifteen  years  before,  and  with  some  qualms  of  con 
science,  for  he  was  a  plain,  truthful  man,  the  Judge 
had  gone  to  Jane,  and  told  her  of  this  windfall  from 
her  dead  father's  debtor.  Of  course  she  wondered  at 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  197 

it,  and  speculated  much  as  to  how  great  was  this  debt, 
and  how  certain  might  be  its  repayment,  for  it  meant 
everything  to  her.  The  Judge  told  her  that  he  had  a 
pretty  good  idea  it  was  a  large  debt,  and  ho  felt  quite 
sure  that  unless  the  debtor  should  die  he  would  con 
tinue  his  payments,  and  that  was  all  he  could  or 
would  say. 

As  time  went  by,  and  year  after  year  enough  came 
from  the  unknown  debtor  to  keep  her  in  comfort,  she 
grew  less  anxious  about  it,  and  came  more  and  more 
to  depend  on  these  moneys.  Every  six  months  or  so 
the  Judge  would  get  a  remittance,  sometimes  from 
Mexico,  sometimes  from  Montana,  and  sometimes  it 
would  be  so  delayed  that  he  would  advance  such 
amounts  as  were  needed  to  keep  Jane,  he^  children, 
and  worthless  husband,  and  then  would  come  money 
to  repay  him,  and  more.  Once  Zeb  had  sent  him 
three  thousand  dollars.  The  Judge  had  put  it  on 
bond  and  mortgage  for  her  where  it  would  pay  seven 
per  cent. 

With  such  love  as  she  could  give,  Jane  held  to  her 
husband,  whose  gentleness  of  temper  made  his  failings 
less  hard  to  bear  than  they  otherwise  would  have  been. 
She  nursed  him  when  sick,  and  she  cared  for  him  when, 
well.  lie  was  never  violent  or  abusive,  but  always  a 
drag  and  a  mortification  to  her,  and  grew  gradually 
into  that  listless,  indolent,  lounging  creature,  the  vil 
lage  loafer.  She  had  tried  to  awaken  in  him  pride, 
ambition,  energy,  but  there  was  no  germ  to  call  into 
life;  she  had  toiled  and  prayed  for  and  with  him,  but 
loafer  and  lounger  was  he  by  nature,  his  only  vice  or 
passion  a  craving  for  liquor,  and  his  only  thought 
how  by  hook  or  crook  he  might  obtain  it.  He  had,  it 


198  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

was  true,  an  affection  for  his  family,  if  one  might  dig 
nify  the  feeling  by  calling  it  affection,  but,  as  time 
went  on,  it  had  gotten  to  be  an  effect  of  a  kind  of 
natural  good  feeling  and  habit,  rather  than  a  living, 
actuating  thing.  He  simply  lived  along,  as  does  some 
worthless  cur  who  has  fallen  into  a  home  where  all 
that  is  expected  of  him  is  to  be  of  a  decent  temper, 
and,  like  one,  he  moved  about  in  his  aimless  round  of 
lounging,  careless  indolence. 

What  bitter  trial  and  pain  had  come  to  wife  and 
mother  she  kept  to  herself,  and  in  the  judicious  care 
and  education  of  her  three  children  she  took  such 
pleasure  as  her  life  could  give  her.  The  respect  of  all 
she  had,  for  every  community  recognizes  the  worth 
of  the  woman  who  leads  such  a  life,  and  in  it  bears 
herself  with  womanly  fortitude  and  courage.  The 
repayment  of  the  old  debt,  made  as  it  was,  had  enabled 
Jane  to  bring  up  her  children  well,  fitting  them  to 
enter  life  with  some  provision  of  education  and  rear 
ing  that  might  give  them  a  vantage  in  life's  struggle 
and  make  them  independent  when  the  remittances 
should  stop;  she  had  laid  by  a  little  from  these 
moneys,  and  owned  her  small  house,  and  with  her  three 
thousand  dollars  at  interest  she  felt  herself  in  such 
modest  circumstances  as  made  her  somewhat  easy. 


CHAPTER   XIV 

FOB  years,  and  at  intervals  of  a  few  months'  time, 
Judge  Peasley  had  come  and  taken  Jane's  receipt  for 
the  sums  of  money  sent  to  her.  He  was  a  month  or 
two  late,  and  she  had  mildly  wondered  at  it.  But 
now  he  was  coming  in  the  gate,  and  she  went  to  open 
the  door  for  him,  ushering  him  into  the  neat  little 
parlor,  dark  as  a  cell  after  the  outer  sunshine,  until 
the  blinds  were  opened. 

"Jane,"  said  the  Judge,  "I've  come  to  tell  you 
something,  and  when  you  hear  it  I  want  you  to  put 
yourself  in  my  place.  I  think  I  did  right,  but  it  don't 
seem  so  quite,  and  I've  never  felt  just  easy  about  it 
for  the  part  in  it  I've  had. 

"  It's  a  strange  story,  Jane,  but  it's  all  brought  and 
brings  good  to  you.  I  have  some  letters  I'm  going  to 
read  to  you,  and  they  will  tell  this  story. 

"  A  good  many  years  ago  I  had  this  letter  sent  to 
me,  Jane;  and  because  the  writer  was  an  old  friend, 
and  because  it  seemed  the  only  way  to  do  what  he 
wished  and  I  wished,  I  have  acted  a  lie  for  over 
fifteen  years.  You  see  it  was  written  in  '68 — yes, 
May  3d,  '68.  I'll  read  it,  for  the  writing's  poor,  and 
I  know  it;  "  and  taking  out  his  spectacles  and  wiping 
them  with  his  red  bandanna,  taking  a  longer  time 
than  was  necessary  in  doing  it,  as  if  he  was  loath  to 
open  the  matter,  he  at  last  adjusted  them  as  Jane 
Simmons  said: 


200  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

11  It  must  be  about  that  old  debt,  Judge." 
"  Yes,  Jane,"  he  said,  "  it  is  about  that  old  debt." 
Slowly  and  carefully  he  read  the  letter  from  Zeb,  and 
when  he  finished  it  and  laid  it  on  the  table,  Jane's  face 
was  white.  As  he  read,  it  had  all  come  back  to  her — 
Zeb's  evident  admiration;  his  awkward  attentions; 
his  speaking  to  her  one  evening  and  asking  her  to  be 
his  wife;  her  hasty,  contemptuous  refusal  of  him; 
she  had  regretted  speaking  so  brusquely  to  him,  and 
for  a  year  or  two  it  lay  on  her  conscience,  but  she  had 
forgotten  him,  had  not  thought  of  him  for  years. 
She  saw  it  all,  the  love  that  thought  not  of  itself, 
whose  tender,  far-away  arms  had  reached  out  and 
shielded  her  and  hers  all  those  long  years,  and  her 
tears  came  thick  and  fast. 

Before  she  could  speak,  the  Judge  said,  "  Jane,  I 
would  not  have  read  you  this,  but  Zeb  Bean  is  dead. 
He  died  in  Idaho,  and  his  last  thought  was  of  you. ' ' 

"  Oh,  Judge,  Judge!  "  she  cried,  "how  could  you 
do  this,  to  make  me  all  this  time  believe  it  was  my 
father's  money,  my  money,  that  came  to  me?  Not 
but  I  am  grateful  to  this  man  whom  I  treated  so  heart 
lessly;  not  that  it  isn't  something  a  woman  feels  to 
have  such  devotion  shown  her,  so  kind,  so  persistent, 
so  steadfast.  Not  that  I  don't  see  what  a  man  he 
was,  and  from  my  heart  I  thank  him  and  respect  him ; 
but  I  could  never  have  taken  it.  I  could  never  have 
taken  the  money." 

"  No,  Jane,  you  wouldn't  take  it.  Zeb  knew  that, 
and  I  knew  it;  but  it  was  best  you  should.  Let  me 
talk  to  you,  Jane,  as  I  would  to  my  child,  my  own 
child.  You  know,  and  I  know,  it  was  a  matter  of 
remark  here  in  Poseytown  that  you  in  a  way  encour- 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  201 

aged  poor  Zeb;  that  you  led  him  on  in  the  thought 
less  way  pretty  girls,  as  you  were  then,  you  know,  do. 
With  most  men  it  don't  matter  much,  but  Zeb  was  a 
man  that  was  truth  itself.  He  believed  your  little 
heartless,  thoughtless,  innocent  lies,  and  he  grew  to 
think  you  might  love  him,  and  like  a  man  he  asked 
you  to  marry  him.  You  laughed  at  him,  and  like  a 
man  he  went  away.  Your  folly  and  your  cruel  laugh 
and  words  did  not  change  him;  such  a  man  does  not 
change.  You  were  in  his  heart,  and  in  all  the  wild 
hard  life  he  led  he  kept  you  there.  You  were  his 
thought;  he  worked  for  you,  went  through  such  peril 
and  privation  as  no  one  knows  for  you.  Yes,  Jane, 
you  and  your  children,  that  you  might  live  and  be 
comfortable.  Save  you  and  me,  no  man,  no  woman, 
knows  this  story,  and  you  only  know  it  now. 

' '  Do  you  tell  me,  Jane,  that  you  would  be  so  cruel 
as  to  regret  that,  though  you  did  not  know  it,  the 
thought  that  he  was  caring  for  you  was  his  comfort  ? 
You  are  not  that  heartless. ' ' 

"  Oh,  Judge,  don't  talk  so  to  me!  "  and  her  face 
grew  hard  and  stern.  "  You  know,  Judge,  my  life. 
God  forgive  me  if  I  contrast  this  man  and  that.  I  am 
humiliated.  It  has  all  come  on  me  so  suddenly.  I 
have  been  living  all  this  time  on  the  bounty  of  this 
man,  and  shame  comes  over  me  that  it  is  so.  But 
that  I  don't  see  what  a  noble  heart  this  man  had,  that 
I  don't  appreciate  what  he  has  done,  and  wish  to  do 
what  he  would  have — for  you  say  he's  dead,  Judge — 
you  must  not  believe.  I,  and  for  the  children  he  has 
been  father  to  when  they  had  none,  bless  his  mem 
ory.  Do  you  know,  Judge,  how  a  woman  must  feel 
to  have  had  such  a  lifetime  of  silent  love  thrown 


202  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

around  her  ?    What  a  man  he  must  have  been !     And 
you  say  he  is  dead,  Judge." 

"  Yes,  Jane,  he  is  dead.  Let  me  read  this  letter 
next,  before  I  come  to  the  one  telling  how  he  died. 
This,  Jane,  is  written  from  Yellow  Pine  Basin,  Idaho, 
and  there  is  no  date  on  it ;  the  other  letter  will  tell 
under  what  circumstances  it  was  written." 

"  DEEK  JIM: 

"I'm  here  with  my  pardner,  a  young  man  than 
whom  there  ain't  no  better. 

"  We've  struck  diggins  that's  like  to  be  dang  good. 
I'm  a'most  sixty,  tho  I  don't  in  no  wise  feel  like  I 
warnt  as  good  as  new;  but  I've  been  a- thinking  that 
things  is  likely  to  come  to  enny  man,  and  I've  had 
Bud  here,  my  pardner,  promise  if  ennything  chances 
to  me,  he'll  send  this  yer  letter  and  the  money  that 
comes  from  my  half  or  the  claim  to  ye.  He'll  do  it. 
I'll  bet  my  life  on  him.  He's  squar,  and  the  likliest 
man  I  ever  see,  'cept  Yank. 

"  Ye  know  what  to  do  with  the  money  if  it  amounts 
to  ennything,  as  I  think  it  will.  Do  ye  take  out  enuf 
to  pay  off  that  morgige  ye  have  on  yer  farm  ye  bought 
of  old  man  James.  It's  only  the  right  thing,  for  all 
ye've  done  and  the  good  friend  ye've  been  to  me,  Jim. 

"  The  rest  of  it,  do  ye  take  and  put  somewhere  to 
hire  where  'twill  be  safe  for  her.  If  I  live,  I'm  going 
East  next  summer,  and  I'll  see  ye  somewhere  and  fix 
it  with  ye.  I  won't  see  her,  a  course,  but  if  enny 
thing  chances  to  me  ye'l  git  the  money,  and  when  ye've 
taken  out  what  I  say,  ye  fix  it  all  right  for  her.  I'd 
kinder  like  her  to  know  I  had  loved  her  and  thought 
on  her  so  long,  but  mebbe  'twouldn't  be  well.  Tell 
her  or  not,  when  I'm  dead;  'twon't  matter  one  way 
or  t'other. 

"  O  God,  I  hope  'twill  be  considerabel  dust  we'll 
git.  I'd  die  easy  if  I  knew  she  was  fixed. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  203 

"  She's  been  on  my  mind  all  the  time,  Jim.  I've 
had  dang  poor  luck,  and  hain't  did  by  her  what  I 
wanted,  but  mebbe  I've  helped  'long. 

"  Ye've  been  good  friend  to  me,  Jim,  and  ye'll  do 
this  case  I  die,  which  I  don't  in  no  way  look  for,  only 
ther's  a  chance,  ye  know,  and  it's  better  have  things 
settled. 

"I'm  peart  and  comfortable,  taking  real  comfort 
with  my  pardner  Bud.  I'm  well,  as  I  hopes  all  is  in 
Injianny. 


The  sobbing  of  the  woman  and  his  own  thoughts 
made  the  Judge's  eyes  dim,  as  he  reverently  folded  up 
the  letter  and  laid  it  with  the  others. 

"This  letter  came,"  he  said,  "enclosed  in  one  I 
received  from  Frank  —  Buddington,"  as  he  turned  the 
page  to  make  sure  of  the  name.  "  This  man  was 
Zeb's  partner  he  speaks  of,  and  it  enclosed  also  a  big 
sum  of  money  for  me  to  give  you;  "  and  he  read: 

"  POCATELLO,  IDAHO,  June  25,  1883. 
"JAMES  PEASLEY,  Esq., 

"  Poseytown,  Indiana. 
'  '  My  dear  sir  : 

"It  is  my  sad  duty  to  inform  you  of  the  death  of 
one  greatly  endeared  to  me,  and  with  whom  I  spent 
several  months  in  close  companionship  —  months  that 
during  my  life  will  be  marked  in  my  memory  as  filled 
with  all  that  the  best  of  companions,  the  truest  of  men 
could  do  to  make  them  sweet  in  the  remembrance  and 
fruitful  in  good  to  me. 

"Intimate  as  were  our  relations,  I  knew  him  by 
no  other  name  than  Zeb,  and  can  speak  of  him  only  as 
I  do. 

"  Some  time  previous  to  his  death  he  requested  me, 


204  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

in  case  of  accident  to  him,  to  write  you  and  to  send 
you,  as  I  do  in  this  letter,  whatever  moneys  might  be 
nis. 

' '  In  compliance  with  his  request  I  enclose  Wells, 
Fargo's  draft  on  New  York,  endorsed  by  me,  to  you, 
for  111, 379. 17,  such  being  what  was  his  due. 

"  The  circumstances  of  his  death  are  as  follows: 

"  Late  last  season  Zeb  and  myself  struck  in  Yellow 
Pine  Basin,  which  lies  on  the  middle  fork  of  the  Sal 
mon,  in  the  Territory  of  Idaho  (I  do  not  know  the 
county),  such  indications  of  gold  as  induced  us  to 
spend  the  winter  there  in  order  to  open  up  for  profit 
able  working,  should  it  warrant,  the  claim  which  we 
had  located. 

"During  the  winter  we  began  getting  gold  from 
the  claim.  Early  in  February  Zeb  was  injured  by  the 
caving  down  of  the  bank  of  gravel  in  which  we  were 
working. 

11  He  never  recovered  from  the  effects  of  this,  hav 
ing  received  some  internal  injury.  He  gradually  grew 
worse,  though  his  cheerful  nature  and  his  desire  to 
make  as  light  of  his  hurt  as  possible  before  me,  pre 
vented  my  at  first  realizing  how  serious  was  his  case. 
When,  however,  I  did  begin  to  feel  his  danger,  I  made 
iny  way  to  the  nearest  doctor,  who,  owing  to  the  diffi 
culty  and,  perhaps  for  him,  impossibility  of  taking  so 
long  and  exhausting  a  trip  at  that  season,  declined  to 
visit  him;  and  witn  such  remedies  as  he  gave  me, 
though  with  them  he  gave  me  little  hope,  I  returned 
and  found  Zeb  dead. 

"  I  buried  him  where  he  had  indicated  in  a  letter  he 
had  left  for  me,  and,  so  far  as  the  circumstances  and 
my  lonely  condition  allowed,  I  decently  and  sorrow 
fully  laid  him  to  rest,  marking  his  grave. 

"  I  have  also  shipped  you  by  express  the  few  per 
sonal  articles  he  died  possessed  of.  To  those  who 
ever  knew  him  and  loved  him  they  will  be  of  value. 

"My  acquaintance  with  him  was  that  of   a  few 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  205 

months  only,  but  in  that  time  he  grew  into  my  affec 
tions,  and  I  mourn  him  as  a  son  his  father. 

"  I  feel  that  I  have,  and  shall  always  keep  with  me, 
a  memory  of  a  man  so  true  and  tender  and  loyal  that 
all  my  life  it  will  be  to  me  a  lesson,  an  example. 

"  It  would  be  to  me  a  pleasure  (if  you  should  think 
it  not  incompatible  with  his  wishes,  for  with  me  he 
was  very  reticent  about  his  life)  to  have  you  write  me 
of  his  history  such  facts  as  would  tell  me  more  of  the 
man  I  knew  so  short  a  time,  but  whom  I  so  dearly 
loved. 

"  I  omitted  saying  that,  according  to  his  direction, 
I  buried  with  him  a  little  buckskin  sack  containing; 


o 


something,  doubtless,  which  he  greatly  prized. 

"  He  had  in  his  hand,  pressed  to  his  heart,  when  I 
found  him,  a  strip  of  faded  blue  ribbon,  and  under 
the  hand  and  the  ribbon  a  Grand  Army  badge.  What 
he  had  pinned  on  his  breast,  and  what  his  dead  hand 
held,  I  did  not  disturb,  and  they  were  buried  with 
him. 

11 1  cannot  give  the  exact  date  of  Zeb's  death,  as  I 
found  him  dead  on  my  return.  I  can  say,  however, 
that  it  was  probably  about  the  5th  or  6th  of  March 
last. 

' '  No  opportunity  has  before  this  offered  to  give 
you  this  melancholy  news,  as  the  wild  and  uninhabited 
country  prevented  my  having  any  means  of  communi 
cating  with  you,  and  my  promise  to  Zeb  required  me 
to  work  out  what  gold  there  was,  on  which,  and  it 
reaching  you  safely,  his  mind  was  firmly  set. 

"  He  displayed  a  feverish  anxiety  on  this  account, 
and  the  disposition  you  were  to  make  of  it  seemed 
something  that  robbed  death  of  any  terrors  it  might 
have  had  for  him. 

"  I  am  following  out  his  directions  to  the  letter,  and 
do  not  doubt  but  you  have  such  knowledge  of  Zeb's 
wishes  and  such  desire  to  fulfil  them  as  will,  accom 
panied  by  this  note  I  enclose,  which  he  wrote  some 


206  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

time  before  his  death  and  asked  me  to  forward,  enable 
you  to  do  all  as  he  would  wish  it  done. 

' '  Stranger  though  I  am,  I  wish  to  join  with  those 
friends  who  may  mourn  him.  He  was  my  friend,  and 
in  losing  him  I  feel  I  have  parted  with  a  true  man. 
His  memory  will  be  green  in  my  heart  always. 

' '  Will  you  kindly  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  this 
letter,  its  enclosures,  and  the  package  sent  you  by 
express  ? 

My  address  will  be  for  some  time,  Metropolitan 
Hotel,  New  York  City. 

"  Yours  very  truly, 

' '  FRANK  BUDDINGTON.  ' ' 

"He  died  alone,"  she  said,  between  her  sobs, 
"alone,  and  the  ribbon,  my  poor  old  ribbon,  in  his 
hand." 

"  Jane,"  said  the  Judge,  "  you  know  it  all  now;  we 
will  talk  of  this  money  and  how  to  invest  it  later.  No 
one  shall  ever  know  of  this,  but  I  thought  I  must  tell 
you." 

"Judge,"  she  said,  "I  thank  you  that  you  did; 
that  woman  is  glorified  to  whom  comes  such  a  story. 
Leave  me  now,  Judge;  leave  me  now;  we  will  talk 
again." 

Putting  in  her  hands  the  package  of  letters,  only 
three  of  which  he  had  read  to  her,  the  Judge  went 
slowly  out  and  limped  towards  home. 

Jane  Simmons  threw  her  arms  upon  the  table,  and 
her  tears  came  fast  and  hot. 

In  her  life,  so  meagre  in  all  that  means  so  much  to 
a  woman,  there  had  been  something,  after  all,  though 
she  did  not  know  it,  something  of  manly  devotion, 
something  of  love  as  strong  as  death,  those  letters  told 
her. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  207 

At  random  she  drew  from  the  package,  tied  with  its 
formal  red  tape,  letter  after  letter,  and  through  her 
tears  read  them.  This  from  Montana,  and  enclosing 
three  hundred  dollars,  with,  "  Ye  know  what  this 
money's  for,  Jim.  I  hope  she  is  comfortable  and  the 
little  ones  a-growing  fine."  This  from  Mexico,  with 
an  apology  for  sending  only  sixty-five  dollars,  and, 
"  Luck's  been  agin  me,  Jim,  but  ye  see  she  don't  want, 
and  I'll  fix  it  with  ye."  This  from  Colorado,  with 
four  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars,  and,  "  Take  out 
what  ye  give  her,  Jim,  and  give  her  the  rest.  Write 
me  a  word,  can't  ye,  how  she  is  a-looking  and  a-f eel- 
ing,  and  'bout  her  children,  Jim;  I  hankers  to  hear." 
This  from  Nevada,  with  its  account  of  a  "Wells, 
Fargo"  check  enclosed,  and,  "A  manny  thanks  for 
what  ye  told  me  of  her,  Jim;  ye  don't  know  how  it 
pleases  me  to  here  she's  so  peart."  And  so,  through 
fifteen  years  they  ran,  dirty,  some  of  them,  and 
crumpled,  written  in  language  uncouth  to  her  and  in 
scrawling  fashion,  but  all  the  same  in  spirit,  all  con 
stant  in  their  purpose.  As  she  read  them  she  could 
see  the  struggle  for  her  this  simple,  faithful,  loving 
heart  had  made. 

Down  on  her  knees  she  fell,  and  to  One  she  wor 
shipped  poured  out  her  heart  in  prayer.  She  rose  and 
put  the  letters  together,  tying  them  with  the  tape 
again,  and  taking  them  with  her  went  out  of  the 
room,  carrying  the  secret  of  one  man's  constancy  that 
would  be  to  her  all  the  rest  of  her  life  the  most  treas 
ured  possession  of  her  heart. 

One  by  one  she  read  the  old  letters  as  she  found 
herself  alone  to  do  it.  Every  one  told  the  singleness 
of  purpose,  the  absorbing  interest  in  her,  the  tender, 


208  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

faithful  love  and  care  for  her  that  through  long  years 
had  actuated  the  man.  She  pictured  his  life,  his  lonely 
death.  Constant  to  the  end  he  was,  his  heart  holding 
her  to  the  last  as  did  his  fingers  the  old  blue  ribbon. 

It  was  a  bitter  time  for  Jane,  the  few  days  that 
passed  before  the  Judge  called  again.  Not  that  she 
had  ever  loved  this  man;  that,  perhaps,  made  her 
reveries  more  painful;  that  so  true  and  tender  and 
constant  a  love  should  not  have  come  to  its  reward 
seemed  so  sad,  so  cruel. 

In  indignation  and  soreness  of  heart,  the  man  she 
had  loved  and  this  one  came  always  before  her.  The 
weak,  selfish  drone,  whose  only  ambition  was  by 
deceit,  or  often  by  cunning  theft  of  her  small  moneys, 
to  make  himself  a  beast ;  and  the  strong,  manly,  ten 
der,  constant  one,  who  all  these  years  had  been  bread 
winner  for  her  and  hers. 

There  was  degradation  in  the  thought  of  the  one, 
but  what  of  the  other?  Over  her  came  again  and 
again,  as  she  thought  of  him,  that  scene  of  his  lonely 
death  in  the  wild  country.  Her  imagination  saw  him 
grasping  the  ribbon  and  going  out  of  the  unloved  life 
he  had  lived,  as  loyal  to  her  as  the  soldier  to  his  colors, 
that  through  storm  of  battle  he  carries  while  life 
lasts.  But  after  days  and  nights  of  self-communion 
there  fell  on  her  something  of  the  spirit  of  the  dead 
man.  "He  bore  his  burden,"  she  thought,  "and 
bore  it  cheerfully ;  so  let  me  bear  mine. ' '  And  the 
round  of  her  daily  duties  she  moved  in,  sadder  in  a 
way,  happier  in  a  way. 

Once  more  the  old  Judge  hobbled  up  and  into  her 
little  home.  She  was  calm  now,  and  the  Judge  precise, 
methodical,  business-like.  "  Here  is  the  money,"  as 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  209 

he  took  from  his  pocket  a  draft,  "$11,379.17,"  he  said. 
"  I  would  advise  you,  Jane,  to  put  this  money  out  at 
mortgage.  I  have  found  that  John  Stebbins  must 
have  some  money ;  his  big  farm  is  good  security  for 
what  you  have.  He  has  spoken  to  me,  and  I  have 
said  that  I  knew  where  the  money  is.  I  have  found 
that  he  will  for  $11,375,  give  you  a  mortgage  at  six  per 
cent,  and  running  ten  years  for  $12,000  on  his  pro 
perty  ;  this  at  six  per  cent,  will  give  you  seven  hun 
dred  and  twenty  dollars  a  year,  and  with  the  interest 
from  the  three  thousand  dollars  you  have  already  at 
mortgage,  which  is  at  seven  per  cent. ,  and  returns  two 
hundred  and  more  dollars  a  year,  will  give  you  an 
income  of  nine  hundred  and  thirty  dollars  a  year, 
which,  with  your  house,  Jane,  will  make  you  comfort 
able  all  your  life.  Indeed,  Jane,  I  have  made  out  the 
papers,  and  John  Stebbins  will  sign  them  as  soon  as 
you  consent.  I  know  of  no  better  security  you  could 
have." 

' '  But,  Judge,  out  of  this  money  something  was  to 
go  to  you. ' ' 

"  Yes,  Jane.  Zeb  knew  I  had  given  a  mortgage  on 
my  little  farm,  but  that  I  paid  off  years  ago,  and  I 
have  nothing  to  take  from  it;  and  if  the  mortgage  was 
still  unsatisfied  I  wouldn't  take  it.  There  is  a  pack 
age  sent  me  by  express,  also ;  only  some  old  things 
Zeb  had  about  him  when  he  died,  and  they  should  go 
to  you.  Shall  I  send  it  here  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Jane.  "Anything  that  belonged  to 
him  should  come  here.  Where  else  should  they 
go?" 

"  Jane,"  said  the  Judge,  "  I  will  attend  to  this  busi 
ness,  and  when  that  is  all  done  we  will  speak  no  more 
14 


210  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

of  it.  The  secret  that  Zeb  so  closely  kept  we  will 
keep  now.  He  would  have  had  it  so. ' ' 
"  Yes,"  said  Jane,  "  I  think  he  would." 
That  same  day  the  package  came  to  her.  With 
tender  hands  she  touched  the  mean  things  that  showed 
so  clearly  the  rough  life  Zeb  had  used  them  in — the 
patches  on  the  old  coat,  the  soil  he  delved  in  for  her 
still  here  and  there  upon  it;  the  hunting-knife  so 
sharp  and  keen;  the  old  Colt's  revolver,  and  its  leath 
ern  sheath  and  cartridge-belt,  that  told  of  long  and 
constant  use;  his  pipe,  the  mouthpiece  gone,  and  the 
marks  on  the  wooden  stem  where  his  teeth  had  held 
it;  the  Testament,  and  in  it,  "  To  my  boy  Zeb,  from 
his  loving  mother,"  and  some  old  letters  from  Judge 
Peasley ;  one  in  which  he  had  written  Zeb  about  her 
and  her  children,  much  worn,  as  if  it  had  been  often 
read.  These,  and  a  buckskin  sack  in  which  big  needles 
and  coarse  thread,  old  buttons,  and  one  silver  dollar, 
one  half  dollar,  with  old  cartridge-shells  and  little 
odds  and  ends  of  things,  were  all.  But  over  them  she 
cried,  as  in  their  eloquence  they  told  her  more  of  the 
details  of  Zeb's  life. 

She  packed  them  all  up  again,  and  put  them  in  the 
drawer  where  were  the  articles  of  dress  her  mother 
had  last  worn  and  a  lock  of  gray  hair  from  her  dead 
head,  the  baby  curls  from  her  children,  their  first 
shoes,  and  such  other  precious  things  as  she  had.  She 
locked  the  drawer  and  put  the  key  in  her  bosom. 


CHAPTER  XV 

SOON  after  reaching  New  York,  Frank  received  this 
letter  from  Judge  Peasley : 

"POSEYTOWN,  INDIANA,  July  21,  1883. 
"  FRANX  BUDDINGTON,  Esq., 

"  Metropolitan  Hotel. 
" My  dear  sir: 

' '  I  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  yours  of  the  25th  of 
the  last  month,  with  enclosures  as  follows:  Draft  on 
New  York  for  $11,379.17  to  my  order;  also  a  letter 
from  my  poor  old  friend  Zeb  Bean ;  also  a  package  by 
express. 

"  The  sad  news  has  been  softened  somewhat  by  feel 
ing  that  one  so  devoted  to  him  as  you  evidently  were, 
and  so  much  loved  by  him  as  Zeb's  letter  to  me  tells 
me  you  were,  did  for  him  all  that  could  be  done. 

"  We  were  boys  together,  and  aside  from  my  liking 
for  the  man  there  were  circumstances,  for  fifteen  years 
only  known  to  me,  and  now  only  to  one  other,  which 
have  made  me  honor  the  man  and  revere  his  memory. 

' '  You  will  excuse  me  if  I  do  not  say  more  of  what 
these  circumstances  were.  It  is  Zeb's  secret,  and  I  do 
not  feel  justified  in  telling  the  story ;  suffice  it  to  say 
that  did  you  know  it,  you  would  feel,  as  I  do,  that 
Zeb  was  a  man  the  like  of  whom  are  few,  and  you 
would  appreciate  a  character  than  whom  in  all  my  life 
I  have  seen  none  more  entitled  to  every  good  man's 
respect. 

"  Zeb  Bean  was  born  here,  his  parents  coming  from 


212  YELLOW  PINE  BASIN 

North  Carolina.  In  1849  he  went  to  California,  and 
from  his  leaving  here  until  immediately  after  the  war 
I  did  not  see  him. 

"  In  1865  he  came  back  here  and  remained  several 
months.  He  had  served  during  the  war  in  an  Iowa 
regiment,  I  think,  and  having  been  several  times 
severely  wounded  recruited  himself  here. 

"  Since  that  time  I  never  saw  him,  but  heard  from 
him  from  time  to  time.  So  far  as  I  know,  none  of 
his  family  are  living,  and  of  course  but  few  of  his  old 
friends. 

' '  I  am  requested  by  one  who  greatly  mourns  him, 
and  whom  heneld  very  dear,  to  say  to  you  these  words : 

"  'May  God  reward  you  for  the  tender  care  you 
gave  to  one  whom  I  have  so  great  reason  to  admire 
and  reverence.  Your  name  I  shall  always  associate 
with  what  has  been  a  joy  as  well  as  a  grief  to  me. 
For  your  devotion  to  his  interests  I,  who  am  bene 
fited,  regret  that  in  this  poor  way  only  is  it  possible 
for  me  to  faintly  show  a  gratitude  that  I  shall  feel  to 
my  dying  day.' 

"  We  will  leave  this  as  it  is.  I  feel  it  would  have 
been  Zeb's  wish  to  have  it  so. 

"  Should  you  ever  be  able  to  come  to  our  quiet  town, 
it  would  give  me  great  pleasure  to  see  you  and  to 
express,  what  I  cannot  well  do  by  letter,  my  appre 
ciation  of  your  courage  and  devotion  and  honesty. 

' '  I  think  we  are  all  better  for  having  known  Zeb. 
May  life  bring  all  my  old  friend  would  have  wished 
you. 

' '  Your  obdt.  servant, 

1  l  JAMES  PEASLEY.  ' ' 

The  clouds  melted  away  and  bright  sunshine  came 
to  Frank.  Vigorously  and  manfully  he  betook  him 
self  to  his  old  occupations,  strengthened,  I  think,  by 
the  experiences  of  his  absence. 


YELLOW  PINE  BASIN  213 

With  years  came  to  him  the  good  things  of  life,  the 
woman  he  loved,  success.  With  loyalty  and  faithful 
ness  he  bears  his  part  as  husband,  father,  citizen. 

I  venture  to  say  that  in  this  year  of  our  Lord  1896 
there  is  no  happier  home  in  all  the  land  than  that  of 
Frank  Buddington.  To  his  wife  and  him  have  come 
children,  a  good  half  dozen  of  them,  bright,  manly 
little  fellows,  and  healthy,  laughing  girls.  His  broad 
shoulders  but  lightly  feel  the  burden  of  great  cares 
and  responsibilities,  and  motherhood  has  only  given 
to  his  wife  increasing  comeliness  and  beauty. 

When  the  winter  nights  are  long,  young  Frank  says, 
"  Tell  us  about  Yank  and  Zeb,  father, ' '  and  his  younger 
brother  climbs  on  Frank's  knee  and  all  the  prattle  of 
the  others  stops.  To  the  snows  of  Idaho  and  the  old 
life  there  the  father  goes,  and  he  tells  over  the  story 
that  all  know  so  well,  striving,  as  he  tells  it,  to  give 
some  new  aspect  to  the  happy  and  interesting  phases 
of  it,  and  softening  those  that  were  hazardous  and 
bitter,  and  might  be  harrowing  in  the  recital.  His 
mind  goes  back  to  the  walk  in  the  snow,  to  the  find 
ing  of  Zeb's  cold  body,  to  the  lonely  grave,  and  the 
influence  on  his  life  that  came  from  all,  and  he  says,  as 
he  closes,  "  Dear  old  Zeb,  he  would  like  to  look  at  us 
to-night."  And  the  mother  says,  "I  wish  he  was 
here."  And  little  Frank  looks  proudly  up  over  the 
fireplace,  where  the  old  rifle  hangs,  and  asks  his  father 
"  if  he  thinks  there  will  ever  be  another  war." 

"  I  wonder  why  he  kept  the  blue  ribbon,"  breaks  in 
the  mother's  namesake. 

"  Eddication's  good  for  boys,  but  the  idee  of  the 
flag,  that's  the  main  p'int,"  says  the  father.  "  How 


214  YELLOW ,  PINE  BASIN 

true  that  is!  You  boys  will  have,  in  your  time,  I 
fear,  to  meet  such  changes  as  we  can  now  only  dimly 
see  the  coming  shadows  of.  I  hope  the  love  of  coun 
try  and  your  country's  flag  that  old  Zeb  hoped  you 
would  have,  will  be  yours  always.  You  can  have  no 
better  education,  and  there  are  so  many  religions  now 
adays,  that  I'm  not  sure  but  that  love  of  country  and 
devotion  to  the  Stars  and  Stripes  is  better  than  half  of 
them." 

Every  year,  when  the  snows  have  melted  and  the 
waters  have  receded  and  the  grass  is  green,  come  from 
Arizona  and  Colorado  and  Montana  wandering  pros 
pectors,  and  they  dig  and  pan  and  speculate  as  to 
where  in  Yellow  Pine  Basin  is  the  old  run  of  gold  that 
Zeb  and  Bud  had  found,  for  the  story  of  its  getting 
has  been  noised  about,  and  grows  bigger  with  distance 
and  with  time.  Every  year  they  go  away  disappointed, 
and  a  new  lot  come  again  the  next  year,  and  so  it  goes, 
and  I  suppose  will  go.  But  if  more  gold  is  there  than 
the  stout  roan  bore  through  the  sweeping  current  of 
Salmon  River,  Yellow  Pine  Basin  holds  its  secret,  holds 
it  fast. 


Date  Due 


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